


Diary of Jane

by Zealprophet27



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-05-28 11:52:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 50
Words: 151,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15048368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zealprophet27/pseuds/Zealprophet27
Summary: Waking up cold and broken, in a world that I don't recognize is dangerous enough but to try and figure out who you are -who you were- in the middle of a war could mean that death is just around the corner. With only the words written in an old leather bound journal and the help from a few friends, I pray that I might one day remember all that was taken from me before it's too late.





	1. One Cold Night

The world shook violently around me, jolting me awake. My eyes flew open and it took me a moment to remember where I was. With each ear piercing boom that landed all around me, my heart felt like it was going to explode within my chest. Shouts for medics echoed around me. I didn't move.

I didn't hear the footsteps running towards my foxhole until the man stopped above me. He glared down and shouted at me, "What are you still doing in there? We've got men getting killed out there! Come on! We need you!"

I stared up at him, blinking at his words. I was trying to remember who he was. I felt like I knew who he was, but for the life of me, I couldn't place my finger on his name.

He jumped into my foxhole and grabbed me by the collar, pulling me to my feet. He began pushing me out of my cover. "Come on, Jane! Let's move!"

I scrambled out of my foxhole on my hands and knees. Firm hands grabbed my arms and pulled me to my feet. The soldier glared at me again. "What's your problem? Come on! Follow me!"

I watched as he ran away from me, leading me into the thick of it. I took a shaky breath as I began to run behind him. With each blast that landed around us, I slowly started to remember what was going on, what I was doing in this frozen forest, and what was expected of me.

When we arrived at our destination, I saw a young man clutching his stomach. Bright red blood had begun to seep out onto the white snow. I stood there and stared at the scene before me. My mouth had gone dry and I was shaking.

The men who were surrounding the wounded man were looking at me. I could see the confusion in their faces as I stood there, staring back.

"Jane! We need you!" one of them shouted at me.

I released a heavy sigh and jumped into the fray. I began to do what I thought I needed to do. When I found the wound, I started to work on fixing the man the best that I could. The wound looked worse than it truly was and I managed to get him patched up long enough for the Jeeps to arrive. When the drivers arrived, we got the bleeding man onto the back of the Jeep, ready to head out for the aide station.

I stood there, watching as they drove him away. The men who were there with him had turned to look at me. I felt uncomfortable as they glared at me. Some were looks of sympathy, but there were quite a few angry glances. None of them said a word to me.

I walked back to my cover and hopped in. Slumping against the back of the foxhole, I looked at my hands. They were caked with blood, some fresh, but mostly old. I began to wonder just how long I had been here in this crazy cold world. Grabbing some fresh snow from the ground, I started to clean my hands off. Once I was done cleaning them as best as I could, I closed my eyes, willing myself to remember what I couldn't. I sighed as I grew frustrated with myself.

Footsteps approached my foxhole but stopped at the edge. "Jane?"

I opened my eyes, glancing up at my visitor. The man who stood above me wore a medic patch on his jacket sleeve and had a pack slung across his shoulder. I blinked at his presence. I couldn't remember his name either.

He knelt down beside my cover. "Mind if I join you?"

"Sure," I replied quietly.

He slid in next to me and began rubbing his hands together for warmth. He looked over at me with his dark eyes and asked, "How are you holding up?"

I shrugged. "I don't know."

He blew into his hands and stated, "I just came from Captain Winters. I guess there have been a few complaints."

"Complaints? About what?" I asked. I didn't want to ask who Captain Winters was, but it must have shown on my face as the man next to me gave me a concerned glance.

The man replied, "The men are worried that you're too far gone and we need to get rid of you."

"Get rid of me?" I asked. I realized how serious this conversation was becoming but I was at a loss. I couldn't remember and I wanted to cry.

"We're surrounded, so we're unable to replace you, but Lieutenant Dike has been demanding a replacement for you. He thinks you're going to get someone killed because of what happened," he stated.

I didn't say anything. I had nothing to say as nothing was making sense.

"Jane, I have to ask. Do you remember anything? Or anyone?" the man asked me.

I shook my head. "I barely know who I am."

The man studied my face before saying, "You're Jane Finley. You started out as a field photographer for the New York Times, but now you're a field nurse for Easy Company. You've been with Easy Company from the start."

I was trying to take in what he was saying, trying to remember what he was saying and hoping that I would believe those words. My head was beginning to hurt with my intense concentration.

"My name is Eugene. Doc Roe...remember?" he asked, studying me with his brown eyes.

I met his gaze. "Eugene...Roe...What happened to me?"

He sighed. "You had an accident." After a moment of silence, he asked, "You really don't remember, do you?"

I shook my head again. "What accident?"

Roe replied, "During one of the shellings, you were knocked back - hit your head pretty hard. Everyone was worried for you, but you seemed to have made a recovery."

"Now everyone wants to get rid of me," I recalled.

He looked ashamed. "It's nothing personal. I think they worry about your safety, especially if you don't remember where you are...or who you are."

"So, what do I do?" I questioned.

Roe stated, "I'm going to help you remember. I'll do whatever I can to help you remember."

I glanced up at him. He was sincere in his statement, almost like he had to for himself too. I offered him a half smile. "Thanks, Eugene."

After a moment of silence, he asked, "Do you still have your journal?"

"Journal?" I repeated.

He looked as though he just remembered that I had no memory of anything and looked ashamed. He nodded. "You used to write in your journal every day. Maybe if you looked through the journal and started to write what you're going through now, maybe it will help."

I grabbed my bag, which had a medic symbol, much like the one Roe had on his sleeve, sloppily sewn on. I opened it to find a thick leather bound book amongst gauze, film canisters, and a broken camera. I withdrew the book and glanced over the brown leather cover before looking at Roe. "Do you really think this will help?"

"It couldn't hurt," he replied.

I broke our eye contact to look back at the book. I hoped that whatever was inside the confines of the book would provide me answers and a detailed description of my life to help me remember.

I sighed as I opened the book and looked at the first page of words. Roe had given my shoulder a gentle squeeze before he climbed out to leave me alone with my former self's writings.

I walked into the editor's office at the New York Times newspaper. He looked up from his desk while talking on the phone. He motioned for me to sit as he continued his conversation.

I glanced about the office, taking in the many photos that hung on the walls. It was filled with photos from sports to events in the city.

When the editor hung up the phone, he cleared his throat. "Ah, Miss Finley, I presume?"

I shook his hand and nodded. "Yes sir."

"I am told that you are interested in becoming a field photographer?" he asked, looking me over.

I shifted in my chair. "Yes sir."

"I don't normally give people of your...stature, a job such as this. Why are you interested in doing such a task?" he asked.

I wasn't sure what his first sentence meant, but I explained, "I want to help in any way that I can. I want to get those real moments behind the lines of our men as they fight for our country."

The editor seemed pleased with my answer. He smiled wide, showing his dirty and crooked teeth. "Have you ever used a camera like this?"

He pulled out a green camera and placed it on his desk. I picked it up and looked through the viewfinder. Lowering it from my face, I explained, "Seems easy enough."

"That there is a Kodak 35, military style. You seem pretty familiar with cameras," the man pointed out.

I nodded. "I've worked with them before. My father was an avid photographer back in his day."

"Well, Miss Finley, I think you'll do just fine. What would you say to working for us at the rate of $5 a photo?" he asked.

"I guess that depends on how many of the photos you'll use?" I asked.

He chuckled. "If you have a keen eye, and if you provide the photos you're promising to take, I'll use as many as you can take. Many of the newspapers in the country are not even sending any photographers to the lines. So, I assure you that I'll use as many as you can give me."

I thought about it for a moment before nodding. "How many film canisters will you be providing me?"

"I'll be sending you replacements as often as I can get them to you," he replied.

I stood up and stated, "Then I better get packing."

He stood up and shook my hand. "Very good. I'll get your film canisters together. Come back tomorrow to pick them up."

I took my leave from his office and as I started to leave the building, I overheard a few men smoking in the hallway talking.

"Did you hear that Mr. Bradley hired some woman for the photographer gig?"

"The job for the war effort?"

"The same."

"A woman? Why would he hire a woman?"

"Because he doesn't want to lose any of his men to such a dangerous job. I guess he thinks that if a woman dies, no one will notice," the first man explained.

I scoffed at the conversation as I was filled with anger at such a remark. Turning on my heels, I stormed back into the office of Bradley. When I threw the door open, it slammed against the wall. Bradley looked stunned.

"Is it true? Did you only hire me because you think no one will care about me if I die behind enemy lines?" I spat.

Mr. Bradley looked like a cornered rat. "What? Why would I do such a thing?"

"That's what I want to know," I shouted at him, crossing my arms over my chest. "If it is true, then I want no part in this. Find someone else."

"Wait! Wait! Okay, that may have been a contributing factor, but how about I make the offer better?" he asked.

"You're seriously going to try and make the offer better in hopes that I won't walk out of here?" I glared at him.

"You can keep the camera! I'll give you $10 per photo and I'll make sure to keep full tabs on you while you're out there. I'll personally call my friends who work at Battalion Headquarters to get you into the best Company to ensure your survival!" he stated. He sounded desperate.

I thought about the new offer. The money would ensure that my family would survive while I was gone and it was more than I would make in a month. I felt like I was selling my soul, but I looked at him and said, "Make sure that the money goes to my family. And I want a sign-on bonus."

"$50 bonus for signing on. Is that good enough?" he asked.

I nodded. "I'll take that now, if you don't mind."

He sighed as he pulled out his wallet and dug out the bill. He held it out for me to take. Once I took it from his hand, I said, "Thank you."

"How'd you find out?" he asked.

"Small office," I replied as I headed out the door.

I walked into my family home and could smell the amazing aroma of my mother's baking. It instantly made me happier the moment the smell of apple pie filled my nostrils.

Walking into the kitchen, I placed the money on the counter before her.

She stared at the bill before slowly raising her brown eyes to meet mine. "Jane? What did you do?"

"I got a job. Now you and dad don't have to worry about where the money will come from," I stated.

She picked the bill up and placed it back into my hand. "I don't want your money."

"I know, but I have to do something to help out around here. This is more than I'd ever make in months. This will keep you both safe and warm for a long while, and you'll have a steady amount coming in-" I was cut off.

"I don't want you out there!" she shouted at me.

My father entered the room, removing his reading glasses. "What is going on in here?"

My mother left the room crying. I felt guilty for trying to help. I sighed as I glanced up at my father. I explained, "I got a job and she's not happy with me."

"What kind of job?" he asked, placing his newspaper and glasses onto the counter.

"It's a photographer job with the New York Times," I stated, putting the money back onto the counter. "That's my sign-on bonus."

My father looked at the bill on his newspaper. "When do you leave?"

"I have to pick up my camera and film tomorrow. I'll probably find out where I'll be going then," I said. I didn't know what he was thinking. He was hiding all of his emotions, which was something he was famous for.

Nodding, he said, "I'll take you tomorrow."

I studied his face for a moment. He wasn't looking at me, nor showing that he was approving this decision.

I asked, "Are you mad at me? For taking this job?"

"No, I'm not mad, but I'm not going to tell you what to do. You want to take this job, and there would be nothing to come from an argument about why you shouldn't go. You'll do what you think is best, and all I can do is support you as you've chosen to do for us," he stated sadly. "Now, I've got to calm your mother down."

The moment he left the room, I started to wonder if I had made a huge mistake.

The next morning, my father drove me to the front of the New York Times newspaper office. We sat awkwardly in front of the building for a moment before I asked, "Are you going to wait or should I get a cab home?"

"I'll wait for you right here," he replied. Still not showing any signs of approval.

I sighed as I exited the car. Entering the building, I passed the same two who were smoking in the hallway before. They stared at me, but said nothing.

When I entered Bradley's office, he was already expecting me. "Ah, Miss Finley. Right on time."

I nodded and asked, "So, do I have my assignment?"

He chuckled. "Straight to business. I like that." Clearing his throat, he motioned to the messenger bag on his desk. "Your camera and several canisters of film. Also inside the bag is your instructions on where to go."

I picked up the bag and started looking through it. He was right, there was a camera and some film canisters inside with a folder.

He added, "I spoke to my friends in Battalion Headquarters. They've selected their best outfit to place you in. Are you afraid of heights?"

I glanced up at him. "No...?"

"Good. You're going to the Airborne training field," he stated.

"Airborne? As in, jumping from airplanes?" I asked. I had read about this new branch in our military. I wasn't convinced that this was the best place for me to be in.

He nodded, inhaling from his cigarette. "The same. I've been reassured that Easy Company is the best in the outfit. You'll be in good hands. You'll report to Colonel Sink and Lieutenant Sobel. Your plane leaves this afternoon. Good luck, Finley."

I slung the bag over my shoulder and shook Bradley's hand. "Thank you."

I turned on my heel and walked out of the office. I was confused as to how the Airborne was the best. It was still a new concept for us, yet Bradley was convinced it was the place for me to be. I had already argued with him over my position and I knew if I were to argue with him over this, I'd lose this opportunity. I couldn't risk that, not while my family's well being was at stake.

As I started to head out of the building, the two men in the hallway smirked as I walked by them. I stopped and turned to face them. "Something on your minds?"

The smiles on their faces widened.. "No. Not a thing. Good luck jumping from airplanes!"

I smiled back at them. "Yeah, thanks. Good luck searching for a new job."

They looked at each other, then back to me. I turned away from them, exiting the building.

I climbed into the passenger seat of my father's car. He asked, "How'd it go?"

"My plane leaves this afternoon," I stated.

He started to pull away from the building, taking me home so that I could pack.

I packed my things into my father's old duffel bag. I wasn't sure what I was going to be allowed to take with me, but I wanted to be prepared. A gentle knock landed on my door. "Come in."

The door opened behind me. I turned around to see my father standing in the doorway. "Got a minute?"

I stopped what I was doing to give him my undivided attention.. "Sure."

He took a cautious step into my room and held out a package. "I want you to have this."

"What is it?" I asked as I pulled the parchment paper away to reveal a leather bound book.

"When I served in the military, it helped me to write about my experiences. I think you should do the same," he replied. He rarely spoke of his days in the service, so this was monumental.

I looked down at the book. "Thanks."

He whispered, "I'm sorry that I couldn't provide better for you and your mother." I knew where this was going to go. He felt guilty that he had gotten severely injured at his job at the local factory when he returned from his military service and because he didn't have a union to protect him, he was fired on the spot. He tried hard to find work elsewhere, but there were not many places who were willing to hire a man who was considered a liability.

"I'm not. You did so much for us. It's my turn now," I replied honestly.

He admitted, "Your mother blames me for your leaving. I blame myself as well."

"Well don't. This was my choice. It had nothing to do with you or mother. This is all me," I said with confidence. He didn't need to take blame for my actions. It was going to be hard enough on him having to feel the guilt my mother would give him every day I was gone; he didn't need to feel it with me.

"Are you about ready? I've got to take you to the airstrip." He started his exit from my room.

"I'll be there in a moment," I called after him. I placed the book into my camera bag and took in my room one last time. It was filled with many happy memories, but now it felt as though it would become the saddest room in the house, especially for my parents. I just prayed they would understand what I was doing.

I slung the camera bag over my shoulder and picked up my duffel. I glanced at my reflection in the mirror on my vanity. My auburn hair was slightly disheveled and worry had struck my mismatched eyes. I blew out a heavy sigh and took my leave from my room.

The moment that I stepped foot off the plane at the base in Georgia that I would be training at, I felt this wave of anxiety. I was beginning to wonder what I had gotten myself into.

An older looking gentleman in full uniform approached me. "Miss Finley?"

"Yes sir," I replied, stepping forward, dropping my duffel to the ground in order to shake his extended hand.

"I'm Colonel Sink. I was told you'd be arriving today," he said, releasing my hand.

Before I could say another word, Sink had looked over his shoulder. "This here is Lieutenant Sobel. He is the commanding officer of Easy Company and you will report to him while you're here."

"Yes sir," I said as I reached out towards Sobel who glared at the gesture.

Sobel narrowed his beady eyes at me. "What's wrong with your eyes?"

I knew how this would go. It never failed in the past. My left eye was brown, while the other was half blue and hazel, almost a perfect blend of my parents' eyes. I knew that people who were not accustomed to seeing eyes like mine would ask questions or think that there was something wrong with me.. I looked between Sink and Sobel, both of whom were staring at my eyes. "My eyes are perfectly fine, sir."

"If they were perfectly fine, then why are they different colors?" Sobel spat at me.

Sink cleared his throat, almost warning Sobel to ease up, but Sobel waited for my answer. I replied, "My vision is perfect, but the coloring is not."

Sobel continued staring at me, making me shift in my place uncomfortably. "I want your eyes tested."

"You sound like you don't believe me," I pointed out.

Sobel took a step forward and replied, "I don't. And if you're going to be a part of this Company, then you need to follow basic protocol. You address officers with the proper 'sir'. Do you understand?"

"Yes, I do. However, I'm not military. I'm a photographer. Sir," I replied with just a hint of sarcasm on the 'sir'.

Sink chuckled. "All right, let's get going. You've had a long trip. Let's get you settled into your barracks."

I picked up my duffel and brushed passed Sobel. I could tell already that he was going to be a problem.

After I got my things into the barracks, Sobel had immediately ordered me to follow him to the med station for examination. Along the way, he informed me that I would be expected to stay out of the men's way while I was there. 'Seen and not heard', he said.

Upon entering the med station, Sobel shouted at the lone soldier inside, "Doc Roe!"

The black haired man turned around, eyes bouncing between me and Sobel as he made his approach. "Sir?"

"I want her vision checked. If you determine that they are not up to the standards of this Company, I want you to inform me immediately," Sobel stated.

Roe nodded. "I'll let you know as soon as I'm finished."

Sobel looked at me one last time before taking his leave.

Roe blinked at me for a moment. "Have a seat, Miss...?"

"Finley. Jane is just fine though," I replied.

"Jane. I'm Eugene. What brings you here?" he asked, clearly confused to see a woman on base..

"I'm a field photographer. Of course, if you ask Sobel, he wants me to be a ghost," I stated.

Roe motioned for me to sit down. Once seated, I asked, "What does this entail?"

"What? The exam?" he asked.

"Yeah, the exam. My vision is fine," I explained.

Roe took out his instruments and set them out on the table. "I'm sure that it is, but he's ordered me to give you the exam. I have no choice."

I sighed. "He seems like a piece of work."

I could see that Roe was holding back some laughter. He nodded and started his examination. He said, "You've got lovely eyes."

"Thanks," I muttered, unsure if I believed his words. No one had ever said that to me before which made believing him that much more difficult.

Roe shined his light into my eyes, blinding me for a moment.

Bright white light filled the night sky. I blinked at the light, glancing up to see a flare falling back down to the earth. I slumped further into my foxhole.

I tossed my journal back into my bag. It was too dark to try and make out what was written within the leather covers and my head was beginning to hurt as I continued to read through what still felt like someone else's thoughts.

I closed my eyes and released a heavy sigh. The world around me was deathly quiet. I loved and hated the quiet. It was nice to have a break from war, but on the flip side, it was when it got quiet that the enemy would attack and kill several of our men.

It wasn't long before I felt myself drift off to sleep.


	2. Part That's Holding On

I was running through the frozen forest as quickly as my legs could carry me. My lungs burned as the cold air filled them. The sounds of shells falling down behind me was propelling me forward.

I heard screams and shouts all around me. I knew that I needed to get to them before it was too late to save them. It was difficult to pinpoint their exact location as it felt like it was all around me. I picked a direction and prayed that it was the right one.

With the screams growing louder, I knew that I was nearing someone. As I stopped above the foxhole, I could see one of the replacements grabbing his face, blood gushing down his hands. He was banged up pretty badly. I started to kneel down to hop into the foxhole when the world around me grew bright and heat enveloped me.

I felt like I was floating in the air, like I was waking up from one of those dreams where you're falling back into your body. When I landed, my chest felt like it was being crushed by a massive weight and I saw fireworks before it grew cold and dark.

I still remember hearing my name within the screams and explosions.

I jolted awake. Shivering, I pulled my jacket closer to my chest, trying to save what little warmth I had. I was alone in my cover which I was thankful for because I wouldn't have to talk about the dream.

I wasn't completely sure if it was a dream or some distant memory. I figured it would be best to ask Roe the next time I saw him.

I peered over the top of my foxhole, scanning the area. The men were walking about, getting breakfast before returning to the line.

I carefully climbed out of my foxhole and headed towards the back of the line where the cook was distributing the meal to the men. I overheard men complaining about the meal choice, but I didn't care. It was food and I knew how precious such a thing was these days, and frankly, anything beat lemon flavored snow.

Standing in line, I searched the area. When my eyes focused on Roe, I stepped away from my place to approach him. He didn't see me coming.

"Eugene?" I started.

He blinked up at me from his spot under the tree. "Jane."

"You okay?" I asked.

He looked away from me and gazed blankly back in front of him. I knelt down to his level and asked, "Hey... Are you okay?"

He shrugged. "I don't know."

"What happened?" I pushed him further.

"Came across a battle field this morning. Every one's faces were frozen in place, still showing the pain they endured before they died," he whispered.

I sat down next to him. "I'm sorry."

He sighed as he asked, "You okay?"

I nodded. "I had a question for you, but I think it should wait."

He didn't say another word or look at me. It made me wonder if what he saw out there in the forest had impacted him harder than he was letting me to believe. I knew that I couldn't push him to talk about it any more, so I just stood up and walked away from him.

When I rejoined the line for food, a tall man had approached me. "Jane. How's he doing?"

I glanced up at the red haired man. The moment I met his gaze, his name came rushing back to me. It surprised me a little, but I kept my composure as I replied, "I'm not sure. He's not really talking about whatever he saw. It's got me a little worried."  
"Just keep an eye on him," he stated. After I nodded that I heard him, he added, "How are you holding up?"

I blew an exhale. "It's been challenging, but I'm slowly starting to remember things. I have Roe to thank for that."

"How so?" Winters asked.

I stepped forward as the line moved. "He suggested that I read my journal. He thought that it would help me remember what I can't. It didn't seem like it was doing me any good, but now I can remember bits."

"Glad to hear it, Jane. Keep at it. Let me know if I can do anything to help," he offered.

I smiled and then remembered something. "Oh, um, there is one thing I was hoping you could help me with."

He waited for me to continue.

"Do you think there's a way to get a replacement camera sent in for me? It looks like my old one got banged up. I'm not sure if I'll be able to fix it," I said.

He chuckled. "I'll see what I can do, but no promises. What kind of camera?"

"It's a Kodak 35," I replied without hesitation. I realized after he walked away from me that I remembered what kind of camera I had, even though I had yet to remember ever using it. I had briefly seen the broken one in my pack, but I never removed it to get a closer look at it. Suddenly, I wondered if I had remembered it from my actual memory or if I just randomly remembered a model of camera. Then I recalled reading it in my journal, but I knew it was only mentioned the one time out of the pages that I read. Perhaps I had just recalled by memory.

I walked away from the food line, no longer interested in getting something to eat. I wanted to know for certain if I had just remembered something on my own or not.

When I jumped into my foxhole, I grabbed my pack. Opening the bag, I pulled out the small green camera. It was indeed a Kodak 35, as it was printed on the front. I laughed, covering my mouth at the surprise.

Examining the camera further, I could see the damage that was done. From what I could tell, it looked as though a blast from a shell had severely mangled it. The best case scenario was that this camera I had left was scrap for parts.

As I sat there looking at the damaged camera, I heard footsteps stop above me. A loud sigh was released before the man spoke. "You're not seriously considering pulling that out again?"

I glanced up to see a Lieutenant standing before me. I remembered the conversation between me and Roe about a Lieutenant Dike wanting to get rid of me and he seemed to fit the bill of such a person. "Just checking the damage to see if I can fix it."

"You and your camera shouldn't be here," he stated.

I nodded. "I couldn't agree with you more."

This confused him. He was expecting me to argue with him. I'm sure that my former self would have given him some speech about how this was the right thing to do, to show people back home how bad it is on the lines, and what we could be doing to prevent things like this from happening, but the person that I was now, didn't think the same way as the one in the first few journal entries. I wasn't sure that I believed in the same cause as that girl, but I was still trying to determine who I was.

Dike stormed away from me, and I returned to looking over the camera. I hoped that Winters would be able to get me another camera.

I pulled out my journal again, desperate for answers. Opening the book, I set to work.

I had just finished taking photos of the men during their PT training, when I noticed several of the NCOs heading towards their barracks. They looked angry. I furrowed my brow and headed in after them.

As I approached the door, I knocked on it to let them know that I was standing there.

They turned to glare at me. I raised my hands up in a defensive manner. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to intrude. I was hoping to take some photos of the NCOs as they worked... but I can see that's not a good idea."

Talbert looked about the men before waving me forward. "You have to promise not to say anything."

"Who would I tell?" I asked. I wasn't military, so I didn't care what they did or didn't do.

Talbert nodded and sat down. The men followed in suit.

I started taking pictures of them as they sat around the table, looking particularly frustrated.

"I refuse to go into battle under that man's command," Guarnere stated.

I blinked a couple of times, removing the camera from my face. I suddenly realized the seriousness of this situation.

"Just to be clear, if we do this, we could be lined up against a wall and shot. Now, I'm prepared to do that. You better be too," Lipton replied as he looked at every man, then his eyes landed on me.

I stopped taking pictures completely. I was no longer interested in covering this side of the war. I knew who they were talking about. They had been completely frustrated with Sobel, even before we arrived in England, but it seemed as though Sobel was making the situation ten times worse the moment he stepped off the plane, entering the English countryside. I knew that if I had been in their shoes, I would have done the same thing they were and would be willing to die to prove to the higher ups that this was a mistake having such a man like Sobel leading.

When they finished writing the letters of appeal, Lipton stood up and addressed the men. "Good luck to all of you."

After he gathered the letters from every one, he walked out of the building. The men stayed behind, not speaking a word but slowly began taking their leave.

I looked at Talbert and asked, "What's going to happen now?"

"With any luck, Colonel Sink will realize that having Sobel in command is a mistake. He's going to lose all of his NCOs...I mean, this is mutiny. He's going to be pissed."

I nodded in agreement, but I whispered, "I hope for your sake that he pulls Sobel. I'd love to be there to capture that moment."

Talbert chuckled and admitted, "If you do capture that moment, I'd buy a copy of that photo."

I shared a laugh at his joke as we headed outside.

Later that afternoon, I was walking down the lane. I glanced up to see Winters taking an inventory of supplies that had arrived for the mess hall. I stopped to take pictures. Just as I pulled my camera out, I peered through the viewfinder to see the NCOs exit HQ.

Lowering my camera from my face, I noticed that they were all dressed in their dress uniforms. They looked like they had been through the ringer. I suddenly remembered the letters they turned in.

Just as they began to approach Winters, they saluted in unison. I quickly started snapping photos to capture this moment. Once it was over, Winters had continued to stare after them, confusion on his face was apparent. I continued taking photos of him, until he noticed that I was standing there.

I lowered the camera and felt ashamed. I wondered if what I was doing was right or not. It felt like spying.

It wasn't until later that evening, that I had seen Sobel exiting HQ. He looked angry. I wondered if he had indeed gotten reprimanded for his actions against Easy Company and if the NCOs' letters had gotten through to Sink.

As the Jeep passed by me, Sobel glared his beady eyes in my direction. I waited for him to drive by before snapping a photo of the moment. I knew this wasn't the photo that Talbert wanted, but I knew it would be one to remember in years to come.

"Jane?" a familiar voice spoke to me.

I glanced up from my journal and saw Roe climbing into my foxhole. I smiled at him. "Hey."

He motioned to the book that sat in my lap. "Is it helping?"

"Sort of. I'm only getting bits and pieces. I guess I wasn't very good at writing out all of the details of what was going on," I admitted.

Roe crossed his arms over his chest for warmth. "Like what?"

"Why was Winters being court martialed? What was the reasoning behind the NCOs turning in their stripes? It sounds like when I wrote this, I had an idea of what was going on, but when I read it now, I'm completely lost," I stated.

Roe nodded. "Sobel screwed up in the field during a training exercise, took it out on Winters. The NCOs didn't want to go into combat with him leading us. They feared he'd get all of us killed due to his inexperience."

"Funny how I don't remember any of that," I muttered.

Roe sniffled. "You weren't there for any of it. It's not as though you were training with us full time. He chose his moments to have you join us and he didn't want you taking photos of what was going on. I think it was because he didn't want anyone to see what we were going through."

I nodded. It made sense. I asked, "Anything else that I don't know about?"

He chuckled. "There's a lot that's happened. I'm sure there will be more that you'll have questions about and I'll be here if you need me."

I smiled warmly at him. "You're the best, Eugene. Thank you."

His eyes reflected an emotion that I had seen before, but couldn't place what it was. It was as though we had a history that I couldn't remember and it was killing him not telling me about it. It broke my heart thinking that I may never get the chance to remember what he so desperately wanted me to.

When he started to stand up, he stated, "I'm going to try and find 3rd Battalion. We need more supplies."

"Be careful, Eugene," I warned.

That afternoon, I stood at the back of the line, staring into the frozen forest that surrounded me. Being away from the foxhole was nice. It felt like all my nerves could relax. I felt like everything would be okay. It was peaceful.

It didn't even dawn on me to think that I wasn't safe where I stood, until I saw the young German kid approaching me. The look on his face must have mirrored mine. I couldn't believe that I was just standing there as he approached me with his rifle aimed at me.

I blinked at him as he stood in front of me, examining me from head to toe. He wasn't much taller than me, and I wondered how old he was.

When I finally spoke, it came out in a whisper, "Who are you?"

He raised an eyebrow at me. I suddenly realized that he might not understand me, but he replied, "Fritz." He had an accent, but he spoke English pretty well, it surprised me a little.

"How old are you?" I asked.

He looked completely confused by my questioning, but answered me anyways. "19."

When I looked down at his weapon pointed at me, he asked, "What is your name?"

I looked back up at him. "Jane."

"What are you doing out here alone, Jane?" he asked.

I sighed before I replied, "I don't know."

He lowered his rifle and asked again as if it were a trick, "What are you doing out here?"

I met his blue eyes and stated with a shrug, "I can't remember."

He glanced about the area, expecting men to jump out and capture him. When he saw no one hiding in the woods around us, he asked, "How far away from your line are you?"

I shook my head. "I don't know. I don't remember even leaving the line."

The young man stood in front of me, gazing deep into my eyes. "How long have you been out here?"

I wanted to cry. I could feel the tears filling my eyes. "I don't know."

I collapsed into the snow, letting the tears fall from my cold face. I was lost. I was afraid. I was certain at this moment that I would either be killed in this spot or he would take me prisoner.

He surprised me when he sat down next to me in the snow. "It's okay, you know."

I glanced up at him, wiping my tears from my face. "What?"

"You're going to be okay."

I asked, "How can you be so sure of that?"

"Because I do," he said confidently.

"Why are you being so nice to me? Why haven't you shot me or taken me prisoner?" I asked.

"Do you want me to do either of those things?"

"No."

"Well, then, I'm not going to do that," he replied.

I asked, "Why aren't you on your line?"

He chuckled. "I got lost." The look on his face made me realize that he was lying. I wasn't sure if he was sent out as a scout or what his purpose was.

I stared into the frozen forest once more. I wondered what would become of me.

Fritz asked, "It's your memory, isn't it?"

I glanced up at him. "How did you-"

He replied, "I've seen it happen with others. Your brain just turns off and you're left wondering who you are, where you've been. I've lost friends because they couldn't remember things."

I asked, "Have any of them gotten better?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. I've never seen them again. And the ones that I do see again, well, they don't remember me, so they don't talk to me."

"I'm sorry," I said honestly.

"Have you lost friends?" he asked, then added, "Sorry, you probably don't remember."

I thought for a moment before saying, "There's one person in particular that I wonder if there was something between us before I forgot everything."

"Why do you think that?" he asked.

"I don't know...he...he looks at me like he is hoping that I remember something important, but gets sad when I don't. I've been trying to remember what happened, who I am, who I was..." It was surprisingly easy to talk to him. I was shocked at how much I was enjoying his company, how much I was sharing with him, and how comfortable I was in that moment as if there was no war going on and we just happened to stumble upon one another like two neighbors out for a walk on a snowy afternoon.

Suddenly I asked, "Tell me the truth, why didn't you just shoot me?"

Fritz looked away from me and replied, "I'm tired of fighting in this damned war. I just want to go home."

"So you've left? Gone AWOL?" I asked.

He chuckled. "For someone who has no memory of things, you do remember certain phrases."

I looked away from him and nodded. "You're right. There are times that I know what I'm doing, what I'm talking about, but then...there are a lot of times that I haven't a clue."

He asked me in a more serious tone of voice, "If you had a chance to leave and go home, would you? Or would you stick around in this frozen wasteland of a forest and wait for your chance to die?"

I thought about his words. I thought about the words of those in my company. I didn't belong here.

"I can tell by your face that you agree with me," Fritz stated. He sighed. "I'm hoping to find my family, kiss their cheeks one last time before I leave."

"Leave where?" I asked. "Why not just stay home?"

"I'm a deserter, Jane. If they find me with my family, we're all dead. If I leave for good, then they will be searching for me, just me, and not my family."

I asked, "Is it worth it though? Not being able to be with your family?"

He shrugged. "It's better to know that I'm alive and they are too, then to be dead fighting a war that I didn't start and never see them again."

I couldn't argue with his views. I wondered if I would see my family again, if they would remember me if I were to die. I smirked as I thought, which didn't go unnoticed by Fritz who asked me about it.

I replied, "I was just thinking about my family. I don't think they'd recognize me anymore. I don't think I'm the same person as I was when I left."

"We never are, Jane. War changes you in ways that you can never expect," he stated.

"Talking from experience again?" I asked.

He nodded. "I've seen that happen too, with my own family and with me."

He studied me for a moment before adding, "Things happen for a reason, Jane. Maybe the person you were before isn't the person you're meant to be anymore."

I whispered, "I don't even remember who I was. How do you know that I wasn't supposed to be that person?"

He shrugged. "You're looking for answers in which there are none. Maybe by trying to figure out who you were is keeping you from it."

"You're very wise for 19," I pointed out.

He smiled. "War also does that to you."

After a moment of silence, I asked, "So what now?"

Fritz stood up from the snow bank we shared. "I better get moving before they track me down."

I looked at his extended hand. Placing my hand into his, he pulled me to my feet. He added, "Remember what I told you Jane. Don't run from this, especially if this is who you are meant to be."

He released my hand and started to walk away from me. I heard him say, "I hope we meet again one day, Jane."

I stood there, watching him disappear into the frozen forest. Within moments, he was gone. I closed my eyes and prayed that I would never forget his words of wisdom, but more importantly, I hoped to never forget him.

When I finally found my line again, some of the men were glaring at me. I tried to ignore the glances and jumped into my foxhole. I pulled out my leather bound journal and brushed my frozen fingers over the cover. Fritz's words stuck with me. What if my search for who I was, was preventing me from knowing? I released a heavy sigh and placed the book back into my bag. I wanted to see if Fritz was right.

The moment the book was safely back in the bag, I heard someone slide in the foxhole next to me. I glanced up to meet the face of a concerned man.

"Heya Jane," he said as he leaned back and pulled out a cigarette from his pocket. When he saw confusion in my eyes, he added, "It's Luz. Remember?"

I faked a smile. "Of course. How're you doing, Luz?"

He finished lighting his cigarette and took a drag from it. "Dreamin' of Africa. How are you holding up?"

"Fine."

"You rememberin' much?" he asked.

I shrugged. "I'm taking a break from it."

"Why's that?" he questioned.

"I thought that perhaps trying to hard to remember was keeping me from remembering."

He narrowed his eyes at me, clearly not understanding what I was saying. "Sure..."

I asked, "What do you remember about me?"

"What? Before?" he asked. I nodded and he stated, "You were confident. Strong. You became fast friends with Doc Roe. I don't know, Jane, you were just...different back then."

I nodded slowly, taking in his words. Back then, I was everything I wasn't now. I didn't feel strong or confident. As for my relationship with Roe, I worried that had disappeared a bit too since the accident. Suddenly, I asked, "What happened to me?"

Luz pulled the cigarette from his mouth, releasing the smoke from behind his lips. "You went to help someone during one of the barrages, and a shell landed a few feet from you...sent you flyin' through the air. Everyone was afraid you'd been killed, but like I said, you're strong."

I scoffed. "I don't feel strong."

"You're just a little lost. You'll remember eventually," he stated with a smile. I knew he was trying to convince me, but it was hard to believe it was the truth.

Lost. That's what Luz called it. I had a hard time believing that I was just lost, like in the forest. A part of me began to wonder if perhaps he was telling the truth. What if I was just simply lost and searching for my way back. When I worded it that way, it made sense, but if I thought about it for any extended periods of time, it began to confuse me. When I looked at the men around me, the ones that were struggling to keep it together, the ones that were wounded and heading home, and the ones that had mentally snapped, I saw men who seemed lost as well. Perhaps we were all lost in the woods, searching for home or something comforting.

My father used to tell me that war changes a person. Even Fritz, whom I had met by chance that day in the frozen forest had said something similar. I began to wonder if I'd never find myself again, that this was the person that I was meant to be for the rest of my life. What if I never discovered that part of me, that part of my past that Roe secretly wanted me to remember? What if this was all that would be left of me? Would that be enough?

The ground beneath me shook violently causing me to jerk awake. Shouts echoed distantly from across the lines. I couldn't make out any distinct voices or orders as each explosion would drown them out. I peered out from my foxhole, scanning the area. Everyone was still in cover. I didn't see one soul brave enough to venture out during this early morning attack. As soon as it had started, it stopped.

Once the smoke from the barrage had started to settle, there were faint outlines of people moving about. Distant shouts to stay in cover were finally making their way over to us.

The sounds of someone crawling behind me grabbed my attention. I quickly turned to see who was approaching me. It was Lipton. Once he reached my cover, he slid into it head first.

I helped him sit up and asked, "How bad?"

"We've a few wounded, but nothing too serious," he replied.

I nodded aimlessly. "That's good."

"I was wondering if you'd like a break. Take the wounded back to the aide station in Bastogne?" he asked, studying my face.

I sniffled. "What about here?"

"We've still got Doc Roe. We'll be fine. Seems like you might need a break," he replied.

I thought about it. Was leaving the line for any amount of time a good idea? I wasn't convinced.

Lipton offered a kind smile. "I think it might be best for you to try and get some rest, even if it is just for an hour or two...just to let your nerves rest."

I sighed. "You're not going to take no for an answer are you?"

He chuckled slightly. "Not really. Everyone thinks it might help you."

I nodded slowly. "Well, I guess I better get going then."

"You'll be okay, Jane. If we need you sooner than your return, we'll send for you," he offered. Once he finished his statement, he started to crawl out of the foxhole to head towards the rest of the line to check on the men.


	3. Same Disease

The drive to Bastogne was relatively quick, which surprised me. Maybe it was just because I was so caught up thinking about things and wasn't paying much attention.

When the Jeep stopped, the driver got out and started to help the wounded man in the back. I climbed out and scanned the area.

Standing before us was the town's church. It was the hub of this place and clearly the main building for the aide station. Outside of the church were piles of boots, helmets, guns as well as whatever other items the dead had on them when they came here. I couldn't help but stare at the piles of gear. It hadn't really occurred to me until this precise moment that we had lost a lot of men.

After snapping out of my daze, I watched as the medic took the wounded man inside the massive church that stood before me. I reluctantly followed him, unsure of what to do in this place. It wasn't a vacation and I wasn't about to just stand about relaxing when there was clearly work to be done.

When I crossed the threshold of the church, I stopped at the landing of the stairs. Gazing down into the cathedral, I saw just how many men were wounded. The local doctors and volunteers who were acting as nurses were busy trying to keep order as more and more wounded flooded into the church.

I stood above the main floor taking it all in. Most of the men were most likely shell shocked as I couldn't see any signs of wounds, but there were several who looked like they had been through the ringer.

A small voice squeaked behind me. "Excuse me."

I turned to see who was addressing me. Standing before me was a short black woman. She had a hint of a French accent as she spoke to me. I blinked at her, unsure of what to say.

"Are you hurt?" she asked calmly.

I shook my head. "No, I'm not."

She narrowed her eyes so quickly it was as if she never did it, but I figured that she didn't believe my words. I figured she would argue with me, but instead, she nodded and bustled down the stairs to help with the wounded.

I went back to taking in the wounded men. I noticed that most of them had a glass of booze in their hands. I began to wonder what kind of hospital this place was.

The medic who had driven me here climbed the stairs and stopped next to me. He sighed as he looked over the mass of wounded. "Good luck here."

I turned to him. "Yeah. Good luck to you."

Before he left, he added, "If you hear planes overhead, get outside."

I raised an eyebrow at him as he walked out of the church. I thought it was an odd comment to make, but as soon as he was out the door, I forgot the words he spoke to me.

Another voice suddenly caught my attention beside me, "Are you wounded?"

I turned and was face to face with one of the doctors. I shook my head. "I'm not. Drew the short straw to come here."

I could see my words processing in his mind before a smile broke across his face. He seemed genuinely happy. "This is great news. We need extra hands."

I suddenly realized what he thought I meant. Before I could protest, he pulled me into another room and stated, "We need another hand in here."

As soon as I was out of his grip, I turned to see a pretty face staring back at me as she hunched over a severely wounded man. Blood was already pooling on the floor by her feet.

I joined her at the table and asked, "Where do you need me?"

Her hand was wrist deep in the man's stomach. She pulled her hand out and released a defeated sigh. "There is nothing more to be done for him."

I looked down at the man on the table. He looked peaceful, except for the blood smears on his face. I glanced back up to the stressed French girl and whispered, "I'm sorry."

She shrugged as she began wiping her hands on a towel. "It happens. It shouldn't happen, but it does, and more frequently these days, I'm afraid."

"What can we do?" I asked.

She met my mismatched eyes with her blue ones. "Whatever we can."

The next few days had gone by in a tedious blur. Every day seemed to become routine and with each man that died from his wounds, the less I seemed to care about how precious life was. Renee continued to hold hope that this war would end and the senseless killings would stop. She knew that I didn't share her views on the matter, but how could I? We were both experiencing this war from different angles, but I got to see it from both sides by being here. I knew that if I had only experienced it from her perspective, I would most likely have the same hope as she did.

It was nice to have some female company as I worked alongside Renee and Anna, but I continued to wonder how the men were faring on the lines. They hadn't sent for me, and I was becoming increasingly busy with the wounded to really complain or worry that they had forgotten about me. If they had forgotten about me, this wasn't the worst place to be left behind. I also had moments where I wondered if Dike had gotten his way after all, ordering the men to leave me. Either way, I had a job to do.

We did have days where we could take breaks outside, just to get away from the overwhelming stench of death and blood. When the three of us sat outside amongst the rubble, we talked. We grew to know each other like family. When it was my turn to share things, I struggled. It was at that moment that they realized why I was brought to the aide station.

On one particular day, it was just Renee and me outside. Renee stated, "You know, Anna has helped many soldiers remember what happened to them when they were on the line."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

She stated, "Some men who come here don't remember why they are here. Anna works with them and somehow manages to pull the past from their minds, bringing back all sorts of memories they had forgotten."

"How does she do that?" I asked.

Renee shrugged. "I'm not sure. I wonder if she would be willing to help you with your memory. Perhaps it would allow you to remember the things you want to."

"What if I don't want to remember things? What if I don't like the person I was?" I asked. It was the same question that I had asked myself since I tried to read my journal to try and recall things. It frightened me to think that I wasn't a good person, or perhaps I was but had changed so much since the accident.

Renee gave me a sympathetic glance. "We all change, Jane. If you discover you don't like who you were, you can change into the person you want to be."

I sat there taking in her words. It sounded simple enough, and it wasn't the first time I had heard something similar. Even Fritz, wherever he was now, had said the same thing. I thought that perhaps I should speak with Anna about what she does with people's memories and see what she could do for me.

As we sat there on our break from helping the wounded men inside, a truckload of men drove up. We instinctively stood up from our spots as we knew what the truck meant. It was carrying more wounded. We would see several trucks a day as each day continued to pass by, and with each truck we would see, the more numb to death I was becoming.

Renee immediately started shouting orders to the men as they brought the wounded into the church. One man approached me after he hopped out of the passenger seat of the truck. "Are you Jane?"

I looked him over. I didn't see any wounds and I certainly didn't recognize him, but I nodded.

He stated, "Captain Winters wanted me to deliver this to you. He said that he hopes this is what you wanted."

I glanced down at the man's extended hand. He was holding a Kodak 35. I smiled wide at the camera and took it from him. I chuckled softly before thanking the man. I didn't think that Winters had remembered my request, and if he had remembered, I certainly wasn't expecting him to follow through. It was a kind reminder of simple gestures going a long way for those you care about.

"Jane!" a familiar voice shouted to me from within the church.

I inhaled deeply, reminding myself that I had a job to do and the camera would have to wait.

That night, I sat outside the church with my camera. I carefully placed a roll of film inside and began to wind it up for use. For some reason, I felt confident holding the camera. It felt like a piece of me had returned. It was an odd sensation to say the least.

"I see you've gotten your replacement camera," a familiar voice softly spoke behind me.

I glanced over my shoulder to see Anna standing there and nodded. "Yeah. My CO actually got one sent in for me."

Anna approached and sat down beside me. "Why haven't you started taking pictures?"

I stared at the green camera that I cradled in my palms. "I don't know. I feel like maybe this isn't something anyone should see."

"Or maybe this is exactly what they need to see," she replied.

The silence was deafening after she said those words. She finally broke that silence by saying, "Renee told me about your memory problems."

I glanced over at her and waited for her to continue.

"If you want me to, I can try and help you remember what you've forgotten," she offered kindly.

I swallowed and asked nervously, "What do you think caused me to forget?"

She sighed. "A lot of men who come here have forgotten why they are here, why they are fighting. A doctor a few years ago called it, 'Post-Traumatic Amnesia'. Sometimes it's temporary and they remember everything once they are calm, but some never fully remember who they are and they go home a different person. Those men stop talking to the people they once considered friends, their families no longer recognize them, and they struggle to return to their normal lives."

"Will that happen to me?" I asked. I was still struggling with the idea of becoming someone I wouldn't like. There was also a part of me who was curious about everything I had forgotten. My thoughts suddenly went to Eugene. It was obvious that he wanted me to remember something, but was afraid to tell me. I often conjured up a million different scenarios in which he wanted me to remember, but I would never know what it was unless I could remember. And here I was, sitting with the one person who held the key to unlocking those memories and I was hesitating.

"You don't have to decide now, if you don't want to. You can let me know when you're ready," Anna stated with a comforting smile.

I nodded in response. I was still unsure of what to do.

Anna walked away from me to leave me to my thoughts, which I was very grateful for.

Sitting alone in the dark, cradling my camera, I got to thinking about many things. I realized that if I was feeling this way just holding my camera, I wondered what would come from actually using it.

I lifted the camera to my eye and peered through the viewfinder. I focused the lens onto the shattered fountain that sat a few yards away from me. It no longer held the same beauty as I am sure it once held when it was built, but now, it held a different kind of beauty. Instead of it being shiny and new, it was broken but strong. Through the bombings and gunfire, it had endured. Much like me, I thought.

I pushed the button and heard the shutter click.

The next morning came too early. I was startled awake by the sounds of trucks pulling up to the makeshift hospital, horns honking, and men shouting. I blinked a few times, allowing my eyes to adjust to the morning light.

"Jane! Come quick! We need your help!" Anna shouted at me from across the room.

I stood up and made my way to the door of the cathedral. When I glanced outside, I saw three trucks full of wounded men. My mouth fell open. I began to worry about the men I left behind on the lines. I started towards the trucks to help carry some of the men inside. When my eyes landed on a familiar frame, I stopped dead in my tracks.

Roe looked at me briefly. It was such a quick glance in my direction, but it was enough to tell me that he was focused and that was exactly what I needed to be in this moment.

I grabbed a man's arm and threw it over my shoulder as I helped him into the church. I got him situated onto a cot and turned to help the next one but I was stopped.

"Miss?" the man asked, grabbing my wrist.

I turned to him, glancing at his hold on my arm before meeting his gaze. I waited for him to continue.

"Where am I?" he asked.

I quickly looked over him. I didn't see any visible wounds. The fact that he was also asking me where he was felt strange to me. I replied, "You're in Bastogne."

"Where's that?" he asked.

I furrowed my brow at him. "What company do you serve with?"

"Company?" he questioned. He looked completely confused with my inquiry.

"Yes, your company...Who's your commander?" I asked, hoping for an answer this time.

"Miss, I don't have any idea what you're talking about. I don't know where I am...or why there's all these people here...What's happened?" he asked.

It suddenly dawned on me what he was going through. This is what Anna was telling me before. This man had this amnesia thing and had completely forgotten his role in this war. I also remembered Renee telling me that Anna was the one who had helped men in the past overcome this type of amnesia. Inwardly, I had to laugh. God had a sense of humor, twisted as it may be, it was humorous to me to be faced with a situation much like this man, but I wasn't sure if I wanted to remember. Maybe by watching how Anna would work with this man, it would help me determine if this was the path that I wanted to take.

"Miss?" the man spoke again. When I snapped out of my thoughts and looked back at him, he questioned me with his eyes.

"I'm sorry. I know someone who can help you remember. Wait here," I stated as I began to walk away.

Once I climbed the steps to the main level and rounded the corner, I saw Renee and Roe working together to try and save a man who had been shot in the stomach. Blood was pooling on the floor beneath the table as it dripped off the table. I could hear Roe swearing as he struggled with the man. Anna was running back and forth between rooms, trying to help them as best as she could.

When Renee stepped back and looked at Roe, I could see it in her face that it was too late for that man laying on the table. Roe had finally straightened and stepped back, sighing heavily. I heard him release an angry curse just before he turned on his heel, storming out of the room, and walking right past me without even a second glance.

I turned to watch him as he disappeared further into the church before I turned my attention back to Renee. She wiped the tears from her eyes with her shoulders before starting the task of cleaning up the room in preparation of the next man.

I walked up to her and our eyes met. I offered a sad smile before I began to help her clean up the room.

I glanced down at the dead man's face. I didn't know him, or at least I didn't think that I knew him. He looked quite battered and exhausted. I knew that now he was finally able to get the rest he so deserved.

That afternoon, we had finally finished with the wounded that were brought to us in the early morning hours. Anna and I sat down on the steps of the church, finally thankful for a moment's rest.

I released a heavy sigh and hung my head between my knees.

"I spoke with that soldier you pointed out to me," Anna said. "I think he's agreed to having my help."

I lifted my head. "That's good. I hope you can help."

"I know that I can. If you want, you can help me," she offered.

I smirked as I looked over at her. "How can I help you?"

"By watching. Maybe it will help you too," she pointed out.

I nodded. "I thought about that. Maybe it would be good that I do help you."

"What made you change your mind?" she asked.

Before I could answer, my eyes landed on Renee and Roe, sitting off in the rubble filled square. The two of them were talking and it looked quite intimate. She offered him chocolate and I could see it in their eyes that something was forming between them. Maybe it had already formed while I was trying to figure out whether or not I wanted to remember my past.

Anna glanced over to see what had captured my attention before returning hers to me. "You all right?"

"They seem happy," I pointed out.

Anna nodded. "They're friends."

"That's not the look friends give each other," I stated.

I sighed in defeat and it didn't go unnoticed by Anna. "What are you thinking?"

I replied, "I'm not sure I should remember now."

"Why do you say that?" she questioned.

"Because..." I wasn't sure I wanted to finish my sentence because if I said it, maybe it would be true.

But Anna wouldn't let me off the hook that easily. "Because why?"

"If they like one another, why should I interfere with that? What if by remembering my past, who I was, whatever Roe wants me to remember...what if all of that breaks up whatever happiness those two are finding with one another?"

Anna was about to say something, but I added, "They deserve happiness. They deserve love. I can't step in between them...Maybe not remembering is for the best. Maybe this is what is supposed to happen so that they'd meet and have a chance at living life with one another."

"You're getting ahead of yourself, Jane. You sound as if they are already planning a marriage," Anna stated.

"Maybe they should be. Face it, we don't know how long this war is going to last or when we will die. If they are starting to form feelings for one another, I'm not going to ruin that for them."

"So, you'll sacrifice your own happiness and quite possibly a relationship you may have had with Roe because you think there's something between him and your friend?" Anna asked.

I nodded. "Yes. It wouldn't be fair to Renee if she has legitimate feelings for him if I were to remember whatever it is that Roe and I had. Whatever it was that we had, I can't remember. He knows that. Maybe he's tired of waiting for me to decide what to do, or tired of waiting for me to remember and he's moved on. I can't hold that against him. So, yeah. I'm not stepping in the way of that."

"Jane..."

"I'm done talking about it," I added as I stood up and walked inside, never looking back on my friend and the man that I thought loved me.

As the days continued to pass by, Anna sat with the man who couldn't remember where he was. She never mentioned the war or where he was, but instead, she asked simple questions like what he did that day or what he had for dinner, even when she already knew the answers to those questions.

Eventually, she began asking him about his home. More times than not, he wouldn't remember anything, but once in a while, a certain phrase or word would trigger a memory for him and he'd begin talking about something. One instance, she mentioned how she would give anything to have one of her mother's biscuits. The moment she explained to him that they were what we considered cookies, a wide smile broke out on his face and he began raving about his grandmother's cookies. As he continued to gush on about them, describing them in perfect detail as if he had a plate in front of him, Anna would ask him about his grandmother, and soon enough, he was telling stories of the woman and her house.

It seemed almost random to me, but he seemed happy talking about his grandmother. The more he spoke as each day passed, the more he became aware of his surroundings, his position in this war, and what he was doing here. He began to remember everything, just because she spoke about cookies.

The day that he fully remembered who he was and why he was here, he thanked Anna and promised that if he were to make it home after this war was over, he'd look her up and send her a plate of cookies. When he left the makeshift hospital, he had a smile on his face. Anna had not only given him his memory back, but she had given him a taste of home to hold onto and that was something everyone had hoped for these days.

I was impressed at the simplicity of her methods. She didn't probe or ask questions in hopes that it would trigger something, but only had normal conversations with him, almost as if he were a child. The more he remembered, the harder the conversations became. I worried that I might have a difficult time with her methods. I was afraid that there might be things that I didn't want to remember or talk about. I wasn't completely sure, but it was a hunch.

Anna approached me once the man had gotten on the truck back to his line. She smiled and said, "He'll be fine. He's got his family on his mind and a fighting spirit to make it home."

"I hope you're right," I replied. I wasn't sure he would because he was so focused on his family instead of the war.

"Did your mother make cookies?" she asked me with a hint of a smile.

I raised an eyebrow at her. "I know what you're doing. It's not going to work."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said, feigning innocence.

I smirked. "In that case, no. My mother never baked cookies."

"Really?" Anna asked.

I nodded. "Too expensive. Couldn't afford the ingredients."

"Is that why you joined the war effort?" she questioned.

I glared at her. "What are you doing?"

"Asking you a question about your life."

"You're probing. You're trying to get me to remember what I can't. Nice try," I pointed out.

She asked, "Why won't you let me help you?"

"Because I'm not getting in the way of Renee and Roe."

"Just because you remember doesn't mean that you have to get in their way, should they chose to make something happen," Anna pointed out.

I nodded. "You're right. But I think some things should remain locked away. The last thing I need is for you to dig up something and that's all I can think about and then I'm at risk of never making it back home alive."

"What are you talking about?" she asked.

"Cookies," I said as I walked away from her. I wondered if she would understand what I was trying to say. I didn't want the last thing I thought about to be damned cookies.

The next morning, Anna handed me a cup of coffee. It was bitter as usual, but it was warm and much needed as the morning was colder than it had normally been.

"Thank you!" I exclaimed as I took the cup from her and held it in my frozen hands.

Anna sipped from her cup as she pulled out a dried flower from her coat pocket.  
"What's that?" I asked as I blew into my cup.

"The last flower of the season," she replied as she showed me the beautiful purple wildflower in her hand. She inhaled the scent deeply before extending it to me. "Smells just as fresh as the day it bloomed."

I leaned forward and inhaled deep. I chuckled. "Smells like my Aunt Nancy's house."

When Anna didn't say anything, I added, "My Uncle Charles used to bring her flowers every day, even though he couldn't afford it. Her house was always filled with flowers, much like this one."

Images of my Aunt and Uncle flooded my mind. I cleared my throat, shaking the sudden memory of them. I looked at a smiling Anna and asked, "Mind if I take your picture with the flower?"

Anna smiled. "It's nice to see you using your camera again."

I nodded as I pulled it out of my bag. "Figured it might help just to get back into the swing of things again."

I looked through the viewfinder and adjusted the settings before taking the final shot. I lowered the camera and thanked her.

Anna replied, "I better get to work in there. See you in a little while."

I nodded as she walked into the cathedral. I stood up and watched as a Jeep pulled up and Roe jumped out. He waved at me before walking to the back of the Jeep to help a wounded man out.

I approached them. "What happened?"

Roe replied, "Another shelling."

"Another?" I asked.

Roe nodded. "Been happening more and more lately. I think the Krauts are getting antsy."

"How bad?" I asked. I felt stupid for asking such a question. I mean, we were in the middle of the war, surrounded by the enemy, and I'm asking how bad it is.

Roe replied, "It's getting worse each day. We've lost a lot of good men."

I swallowed. "Who?"

Roe stated, "I gotta get him inside. I'll talk to you later, okay?"

I motioned him to go. "Sorry. Sure thing. Later."

I watched him walk away from me and towards Renee who was waiting for him at the steps. She smiled at him before helping him with the wounded man. Roe looked over at her as they climbed the steps into the church, rounding the corner out of my view.

For some reason, my heart felt like it broke a little bit.

Later never came that day. Roe had helped Renee with the heavy onslaught of wounded that poured in that morning. When they finally had a chance to take a breath and rest a bit, they did it in the same spot in the courtyard. They talked for a while with each other.

It was at this moment that I felt as though Roe had moved on. I had been replaced with a woman who knew who she was. Renee was a strong woman with so much love and respect for those she met. She was also a beautiful woman and I felt that I couldn't compete with her in any way.

I sat on the steps, holding myself to keep warm as I watched them from a distance.

I could hear the steps behind me and eventually the warmth of Anna as she sat next to me on the frigid steps. I never looked over at her.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

I shrugged. "As best as I can be, I suppose."

Anna followed my gaze across the courtyard and saw Renee and Roe sitting together. She asked, "Has he spoken to you yet?"

I shook my head. "No. He's been a little busy."

"Maybe you should go speak with him," she suggested.

I shook my head again. "No. He told me that he'd talk to me later."

"When's later?" she questioned.

I shrugged. "Whenever he makes time for me."

Anna looked at me. "You should talk to him."

I smirked. "I think I'm done."

"Done with what?" she asked.

I met her questioning brown eyes. "Time for me to move on."

"So, you're not going to try to remember anymore?" she asked.

I stood up. "There's no point. From what I remember reading in my journal before forgetting everything about my life and who I was, my family hates me for leaving and coming here. Now that Roe has moved on with his life, I guess you could say that I've lost everything important enough to remember...maybe this is for the best."

Anna gazed up at me. "I don't think you've lost everything important to you."

I sighed. "Perhaps you're right, but as of this moment, I'm done. I'm throwing in the towel. I'm going to send a message to the CO of Easy and see about returning to the line."

"Why?" Anna asked, suddenly standing up. "We need you here."  
"To do what? Use more of your supplies? Be in the way as you're trying to save someone's life? Take pictures?" I asked.

"It's important to take pictures-"

I cut her off. "Important? For whom? They don't want pictures of the wounded. They want the battles. That's what sells. That's what I get paid for. Unless those wounded men are dead or dying on the front lines, they don't want the damn photos!"

I stormed past Anna and headed into the cathedral.


	4. Mighty Storm

That night, I curled up onto my cot and tried to sleep. My mind raced with all sorts of thoughts, some about my family, some about Roe and Renee, but most of them were about what I would do from this moment on.

It finally occurred to me just how jealous I had become over Roe's attentions being on Renee. I envied her. I wanted to be her. I realized that whatever Roe and I had, it must have been serious, but on the flip side, I felt like it couldn't have been that serious if he was already moving forward with someone else.

I liked Renee. She was a sweetheart, beautiful, and calming to those around her. There was no reason for anyone to not like her. She was the nicest person I had ever met. She never spoke ill of anyone. It was hard to be mad at her for any reason. But I found myself really trying to be mad at her. It was stupid of me considering that I was the reason I was mad at her to begin with. Had I just accepted the offers to restore my memory instead of fighting it this whole time, maybe it would have been me that Roe spent his times in the ruined town square instead.

I heard soft footsteps approaching me and glanced over my shoulder to see who it was. It was Renee.

"I'm sorry to bother you," she started.

I rolled over to give her my full attention. "No. It's fine. What's wrong?"

"I need some help. Anna needs some rest but I need another pair of hands," she stated.

I nodded, rolling out of the cot. "Sure thing."

I followed her through the maze of cots that held wounded men as we climbed the stairs to the main floor. I asked, "What's going on?"

"We've received word that more wounded are on their way in. I don't know how bad, but I wanted to be prepared," she said.

Guilt washed over me again. I continued feeling bad for feeling the way that I did with her. It was killing me that I felt this way towards her. I felt like I needed to apologize to her.

I didn't get a chance to say much more because the moment we reached the door to the church, the truck pulled up and they started bringing the men into the building.

Renee asked, "Do you think you can handle some of the lesser ones on your own?"

I nodded. "Sure. I'll do my best."

"Only the easy ones. Wrap them up, send them downstairs. Just trust your instincts," she told me.

She began sorting through the wounded and I had a few already starting to line up in my area.

I did what she told me to do and began just wrapping up their cuts and gashes. Once in a while, I had to dig out something from their wounds, but for the most part, she kept true to her words by only sending me the really easy ones.

One of those men walked in and hopped up onto the table without being told to. I asked like many times before, "Where are you hurt?"

The man sneered at me. "I don't want you."

I glanced up at the man, only to be met with a glaring gaze. Hate was written all over his face. I blinked at him. "Sorry?"

"I remember you plain as day. I don't want you," he repeated.

I asked, "Do we know each other?"

"Yeah. You're the bitch that got me demoted."

I stared back at him, unsure of what to say. Do I tell him that I didn't know who he was? I'm sure that it wouldn't make a difference to him.

"What's the matter? You've got nothing to say?" he spat the question out.

I responded carefully, "I'm sorry, but I don't remember you-"

"That's funny. I seem to recall you pretty damn well. I have to say though, I'm amazed you've survived this long," he taunted.

I was about to reply, but Renee stepped up beside me. "What's going on here?"

"I refuse to be treated by this bitch-"

Renee interrupted him, "If you say that word one more time, you'll have no one treat you, do you understand?"

He glared at me, but turned back to Renee. "Yes ma'am. I still would like a different nurse."

Renee looked at me with concern, but motioned the man to follow her out. I began to wonder what I did to upset that man or even get him demoted. There were so many questions that I didn't have the answers to, but I suddenly realized that I must have been a terrible person for people to hate me so. Maybe it was in everyone's best interest, including mine, never to know that person - to keep that part of myself dead and forgotten.

I had blocked out what happened with that soldier and got so into what I was doing, I stopped looking at the men who came in. They just became another soldier who needed stitched up and sent downstairs for recovery. They were no longer a person to me, but one in a million faces who needed help. I didn't know their names, and I started to become numb to the fact that these were people.

The next one who I began cleaning up was a man who had been stabbed in the leg with a bayonet. It missed everything vital from what I could tell, but there was still a chunk of the knife sitting inside the wound. I knew that I would have to fish it out and pray that I wouldn't kill the man. I set to work, praying the whole time.

"You're deep in thought," a familiar voice stated.

I didn't look up from cleaning out his bayoneted leg. "Just trying to fix you up."

"Have any luck?" the voice asked.

I asked mindlessly, "How is it that you are not in worse shape than you should be?"

"I was wearing several layers of clothing...plus I was able to counter," the voice stated.

"Lucky you," I whispered as I began fishing out the tip of the bayonet that was still lodged in his right thigh.

"Speaking of luck, have you had any?" he questioned.

"Any what?" I asked. I wasn't really listening to him, and I felt bad about it.

"Luck," he repeated.

"Luck about what?' I asked, completely confused by his random conversations.

He chuckled. "Luck remembering who you are."

I looked up and met the familiar smiling blue eyes of Fritz. My mouth fell open. I blinked at him, trying to figure out if I was seeing him or not. "What are you doing here?"

"I was picked up by your troops," he stated.

"Do they know you're the enemy?" I whispered.

He nodded. "They know. They also know that I went AWOL to get away from it all."

"So...are you a prisoner now?" I asked.

He shrugged. "Who knows. I think they are still trying to figure out what to do with me. Guess we'll find out what happens if you fix me up or if I bleed to death."

"No pressure," I muttered.

I looked up to see that Renee was finished with her last wounded and had glanced my way. When our eyes locked, she came over, almost knowing that I needed her help.

She looked at Fritz and said, "We'll need to stitch him up. Keep his tourniquet on tight above the wound. Fish out the piece and we'll close him up. I'll grab the stuff."

I nodded as she walked away to grab the supplies and I adjusted his tourniquet. I tightened it as best as I could, but apparently I tightened it so well, because Fritz groaned.

"Are you taking my leg?" he asked, tongue in cheek.

I sighed. "Sorry."

He smiled. "I was kidding."

I released my breath. "Sorry. It's just...been a long day."

He nodded. "I know. Who's your friend, by the way?"

"Who? Renee?" I asked, pointing in the direction she had walked.

"Yeah. She's cute," he admitted.

I gritted my teeth before replying, "Yeah. She is."

"You seem upset by that," he pointed out.

I shrugged. "Not upset. Just seems to be the common thought around here, that's all."

Renee had returned and we immediately set to work on Fritz.

That night, once Fritz had been fixed up and given a cot, Renee and I sat outside on the steps with a cup of coffee.

She asked, "Was that man a friend of yours?"

I looked at her. "Who? Fritz? Yeah, I guess."

"Where'd you meet him?"

"Behind enemy lines," I replied.

"Doesn't seem like anyone knows that he's German," she stated.

I furrowed my brow at her. "Except you, it would seem."

She smiled. "I know a German man when I see one."

We shared a laugh over that statement.

"I guess you would," I said.

"What do you think your people will do with him?" she asked.

I shook my head. "I haven't the faintest idea."

"What do you want to see happen to him?" she questioned.

I shrugged. "It doesn't matter what I want."

"You like him, don't you?" she said with a smile.

I smirked. "I don't know him."

"But there's something there," she said. "Just like you and Eugene."

When she said Roe's first name, my heart ached. Something inside me felt sad when she said it, like it wasn't meant to be spoken. I didn't call him by his first name. Maybe I did when I was me before forgetting everything, but I certainly didn't call him that now.

"What's the story with you and Eugene?" she asked.

"No story," I replied. I was surprised at how cold my tone of voice had gotten. I felt ashamed by how jealous and angry I got whenever Renee and Roe were in the same conversation.

"He talks about you, sometimes," she admitted. "He speaks of you as though you have a history."

"What does he say?" I asked.

"Why don't you want to remember?" she countered. "What are you afraid of?"

It was the same question with practically everyone that I met. I didn't know the answer anymore.

"You like him, don't you?" I asked her.

She smiled. "Yes. I do."

I stared at the ground. "I thought so. He likes you too, from what I can tell."

"Perhaps. But I don't think he likes me as much as he does you. You have his heart."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that. He spends most of his time with you. If you two are starting to feel something, you should go for it. Who knows how long this war will last, and you need to find whatever happiness you can while you have it within arms reach," I said.

"Are you giving me permission to see Eugene?" she asked, clearly amused.

I looked at her. "I didn't mean for it to come across like that...I just meant that ... If you like each other, don't think about how it will impact me, okay? Just focus on you."

She raised an amused eyebrow at me. "We're just friends, you know?"

"Still. If you decide it's more-"

She interrupted me. "Talk with Anna. Get your memory back. From what he says of you, you were a very interesting person."

"I was an interesting person? What are you trying to imply, Renee? I'm not interesting now?" I laughed.

She chuckled. "Oh, yes. Quite a bore."

We laughed together on the steps as we finished our coffee.

As we stood up to head back inside, I asked, "Aren't you going to ask me what happened today with that one soldier?"

"Who? The mean one who kept calling you names?" she asked. When I nodded, she shook her head. "No. The way I see it, he's a hateful person. You're not a bitch."

"But I might have been. Is finding out who I was really worth losing who I am now?" I asked.

She looked at me and sighed. "Just because you find out who you were doesn't mean the person you are now disappears forever. You're not that person anymore. Anyone with half a brain would be able to see that. He didn't want to because he's still bitter about whatever happened back then."

I took in her words, carefully considering what she was telling me to do. I suddenly realized that Renee was a genuine person, and she would become a good friend of mine.

Days continued to go by. Days had turned into weeks and weeks into months. Every day, I would sit with Renee and Anna. We would talk and get to know one another. I learned things about their lives before the war and for some reason, hearing their stories made me more curious about mine, and I found myself reading from my journal when I was alone.

When the girls were busy being nurses, I was busy taking pictures or helping Fritz walk so he wouldn't get worse just sitting in the basement.

Fritz and I became just as close as I had gotten with the girls. He told me more about his family, how far he had gotten through the frozen forest after he left me that one day before getting caught by soldiers. He even explained how he got stabbed in the leg.

Fritz asked, "So, how much have you read out of that book of yours?"

I looked down at the leather bound journal in my right hand. "Pretty far, actually. I'm almost finished with it."

"Learn anything about yourself?" he asked.

"Apparently, I didn't take crap from anyone...unlike now," I said with a chuckle.

"Who's giving you crap?" he asked.

I shook my head. "Not now, but a few months ago, I had a harder time understanding what was going on."

"And now?"

"Now? I don't know...I'm...happy," I replied.

"Happy?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

I smirked. "Not 'happy' happy. Just...I think I'm fine with how things are now. I don't need to figure out who I was."

He nodded. "Good for you."

We walked a few steps in silence before he asked, "What will you do now?"

"What do you mean?" I asked.

He said, "Well, if you're no longer curious about who you were and trying to figure out what people want you to remember, what are you going to do now? Will you try to go home?"

I smirked as I thought about it. "I don't think I'd be welcome back home, according to the book."

"What do you mean?" he questioned.

I inhaled deeply before saying, "From what I've read, my family was pretty angry with my decision to come here...all for a job. I'm thinking they were pretty much done with me."

"Family will always be there, no matter what you do, or think you deserve," he said with confidence.

"What makes you so sure?" I asked.

"My family wasn't happy with my decision to join the fray, but I think they'll be happy to see me return and be done with it," he stated.

I wasn't convinced and I think he saw it on my face.

We walked in silence again. Fritz finally sat down on the edge of the fountain and said, "Sorry. I needed to rest."

I nodded. "It's okay."

As he sat there, I suddenly had the urge to take his picture. I put the journal on the fountain ledge next to him and raised my camera to my face, aiming it at him. He smiled at me as I took his picture.

"Should I look morose?" he asked with a smirk.

I took his picture and looked up at him with my own eyes. "You should just be you."

"Miss Finley?" a voice behind me spoke. I turned to see who had spoken. "This is for you."

The man handed me a couple of letters, saluted, and walked away. I put the letters in my coat pocket and turned back to Fritz, who was reading the journal.

"Hey!" I protested.

He looked up from the bound pages and asked, "New York, eh?"

I sighed, rolling my eyes as I sat down next to him. "Yes."

He smirked. "I figured you were more of a country girl."

"Really?" I asked, slightly stunned. I watched as he continued thumbing through the pages.

"So all of the money you make on you photographs are going to your parents?" he questioned.

"Yes," I replied.

"Interesting."

"Why is that interesting?" I questioned.

He said, "Well, you're concerned that they won't accept you back when this is all over, yet they are taking the money you're making from this whole ordeal. Doesn't make much sense for them to not take you back home when you return."

I didn't say anything. I wasn't sure what to say, if anything. I just sat there and watched as he flipped through the pages of the journal before he handed it back to me, suddenly satisfied with what he had read, no longer needing more.

Fritz admitted, "I have to say that you are by far the most interesting woman I have ever had the privilege of meeting."

I felt a blush coming across my face. "Why do you say that?"

"You left home to take care of your family, and instead of doing something safe, like be a nurse back in America, you joined a newspaper to take pictures of the war itself. And don't get me started on your beautiful eyes," he stated.

I scoffed. "Now I know you're making things up."

"You're calling me a liar," he said with amusement.

I nodded. "If the boot fits."

"I've never had a woman call me a liar before," he said playfully.

"Never? Maybe not to your face anyways," I joked.

He let out a fit of laughter, before playfully tickling me. I fought him off as we continued to play.

A voice cleared beside us. When we stopped and looked up, almost embarrassingly, to see Roe had been standing there watching it all.

Roe looked upset to see me next to Fritz, but to his credit, he didn't say anything to him. He asked, "Do you have a moment?"

"Sure," I replied. For some reason, I felt embarrassed that Roe had seen the way that I was with Fritz, but another part of me realized that it didn't matter what he thought because he had clearly moved on.

We walked a few feet from Fritz before he stated, "Looks like you're going to be here a while longer."

"Why's that? What's happened?" I questioned.

He replied, "We're surrounded and until we know where we need to go to get out of there, there's no need for you on the line."

"How much longer?" I asked.

He shook his head. "I don't know."

I nodded slowly, taking in his words. I had been sitting in Bastogne for what felt like an eternity already. Part of me missed the men on the lines, missed seeing their faces, hearing their voices and jokes. Another part of me was happy to be staying in Bastogne with the friends that I was making, but when I looked into Roe's sad eyes, I felt guilty of wanting to stay. The war was beginning to take it's toll on him and it showed.

Roe asked, "If you'd rather, I can ask that you come back to the line."

I shook my head after a moment to think. "If they feel that this is the best place for me to be right now, we shouldn't question their orders."

He stared at me for a moment before quickly glancing at Fritz. He met my eyes once more and I couldn't read the emotions behind them. He slowly nodded as he started to walk away from me. I wondered if he thought there was something more between Fritz and me. He looked hurt, betrayed.

"Eugene?" I called out to him.

He turned to look over at me, waiting for me to continue.

"Be careful out there," I said.

He gave me a half smile before heading to the Jeep that would carry him back to the lines.

That evening, I sat on my cot downstairs with the soldiers, reading the last few pages of my journal. Even though the words weren't triggering any memories, I felt like the words at least began to make sense. I had started analyzing how people treated me or each other, and it seemed like my journal explained some of that. I still had a lot of questions, but I knew that it didn't matter as much anymore. At this point in time, if I remembered who I was, great. If I didn't, that was okay too. I had decided to live my life in the present and take it a day at a time.

As I finished the page I was on, I turned it to reveal a page of blood. I furrowed my brow at the mess that had stained the pages. I wondered what had happened, whose blood it was that was inside my book, when Renee and Anna approached me.

I closed the book and looked up at them, returning the smiles they had on their faces. They looked like they were up to something. "What?" I asked.

Renee asked, "Could you come with us?"

"Where?" I asked, clearly amused.

Anna replied, "We want to show you something."

I was intrigued and stood up from my cot. "All right."

They led me up the stairs to the main floor of the church. In one of our 'operating' rooms, they had a small table set up in the middle of the room and sitting on the top were three presents.

I looked at them confused. "What's this?"

"We have a tradition here, where we open our presents the night before," Renee stated.

"Night before what?" I asked, still not following.

"Christmas," Anna replied. "Did you forget?"

"Christmas? It's Christmas already?" I asked.

Renee chuckled. "We thought you might have forgotten."

"I didn't get you guys anything," I admitted, feeling more and more guilty.

Renee shrugged. "You've helped us for the past few months and that in itself is a present enough."

I smiled at them and gave each a big hug. "Thank you."

Anna said, "Go on. Open them."

I chuckled as I approached the table.

Suddenly, I felt the floor shake beneath my feet. I turned and looked at the girls. "What's going on?" I asked.

Renee listened for a brief moment before shouting, "Every one outside!"

Anna grabbed my hand and explained as she pulled me towards the wounded men in the other room, "We're being bombed! Get the men outside!"

"What about you and Renee?" I asked, watching Renee run down the stairs to start filing the men outside.

"We're right behind you! Go! Get the men out!" Anna shouted as she ran back into the other room.

I watched as a bomb crashed through the roof in the operating room, exploding between me and Anna. I watched as Anna and one of the doctors were blown through the wall they were closest to.

I rushed forward through the dust and smoke. "Anna! Anna! Answer me!"

She stood up, coughing. "I'm fine! Get those men outside!"

I nodded and rushed to help Renee with the wounded.

I watched men hobble up the stairs, trying their hardest to get outside to safety. I grabbed one man's arm and threw it over my shoulder. "Come on! Let's go!"

Men began pouring outside, helping one another out. I managed to get the man I was helping walk outside and turned to go back in to help.

As I neared the entrance, I spotted Renee. She was standing in the foyer of the church, filing the men out the door as quickly as they could go.

"Renee!" I shouted over the explosions around us.

Our eyes locked. Within seconds of our eyes locking, and as I about placed my foot on the steps to rush back inside, and explosion went off in the same place where Renee and several others had just been standing.

The explosion was so bright, it blinded me. I felt the heat from the blast on my cold skin.

I had the feeling of flying. I heard no sounds anymore, no explosions or planes overhead.

I felt a weight crush down on top of me before I felt enveloped by the cold and darkness.

Then...nothing.


	5. Home

"What have you to report, Doc?" Sobel asked, eyeing me carefully. I felt as though he was hoping to find something wrong with my eyes, just so he could get the satisfaction in sending me home.

Roe replied, "There's nothing wrong with her eyes, sir."

"Are you sure?" Sobel asked.

Roe nodded. "Yes sir. I ran the tests twice."

Sobel narrowed his beady eyes at me before saying, "Very well. You'll report to me and only me. If you have questions about this operation, save them. You will get nothing from us. Your job is to only take pictures of what I deem acceptable."

"With all due respect, sir, I am not military. I don't take orders from you. I was given a clearance to take pictures of the training of our men, as well as that in the field to keep people up to date with the war efforts. If you have any questions, you can talk to Colonel Sink or my boss back in New York. Otherwise, I hope you have a great day," I replied. I had a feeling that Sobel and I were going to have problems, and after the eye exam incident, and now this, it was evident that we were destined to disagree.

Sobel stormed out of the infirmary, most likely heading to talk to Sink about my presence and attitude, but I didn't tolerate bullies as a kid, and I certainly wasn't about to put up with it now. If my father did anything for me, it was to stand up for myself and what I believed in. That way of thinking and upbringing might not be considered ideal for a woman and her place, but my father wasn't about to have his only child become a doormat, and for that, I owed him everything.

Roe turned to me. "You realize that you've officially gotten on his bad side?"

I chucked. "He doesn't scare me."  
"You're the only one," he stated as he motioned for me to walk first.

As we began walking outside, Roe asked, "Are you really going to be joining us over there? I mean- you're seriously risking your life for photos?"

I shrugged. "Made sense at the time. I needed to find a productive way to help my family, and it was either doing this or working in some factory back home."

"What about becoming a nurse?" Roe asked.

I shook my head. "Eh, was never too good at making people feel better." Roe looked at me slightly confused so I added, "Terrible bedside manner."

"So, will you be training alongside us then?" he asked.

I shook my head. "I don't think so. I think I'm just here as an observer. I think when the time comes, I'll be heading over with the officers and rejoin you there."

Roe nodded. "That makes sense."

We walked in silence the rest of the way to my private tent. I smiled at Eugene and said, "Thank you for the escort...and the eye exams."

He laughed. "You're welcome." He started to walk away from me, but he stopped and turned to speak. "And try not to get into any more trouble with Sobel, okay? He'll take it out on the rest of us."

I chuckled. "I'll try, but no promises."

He waved goodbye to me as he turned to leave. I watched him walk away, wondering what would become of Doc Roe.

The next morning, I gathered my camera and bag, and headed out to the assembly area, taking pictures of the camp as I went along. I knew that I would have to take pictures of everything to provide my employer a variety of photographs to choose from in hopes of getting paid frequently and handsomely with each roll of film that I would send back home. I knew that once I was overseas where the action was, that it would be easy to find subject matter that I knew for a fact the fat man behind the desk wanted, but during training, I feared that he wouldn't want anything. I hoped that wasn't the case.

I stopped shy of the men as they stood in their PT gear at the base of the massive hill. When Sobel appeared, he began shouting orders at them to start running in formation. The men had quickly fallen into place and started their trek up the dangerous hill. I took a few pictures before they had disappeared into the thick woods.

"How are you settling in?" a voice asked me.

I lowered my camera from my face, turning to see who had joined me. It was Sink. I smiled at him. "I'm doing well, sir. Thank you."

"I heard that you gave Captain Sobel a hard time yesterday afternoon," Sink stated.

I nodded. "Yes sir."

"Not going to deny it?" he asked, almost shocked.

I shook my head. "I don't see why I should deny it. I did nothing wrong, per se."

"You talked back to a commanding officer," Sink replied.

I nodded again. "I understand that, sir. However, I'm not military. He has no place to bully me into submission. If he had just asked me politely to do what he asked, I might have handled things a bit differently."

"You're not related to a John Finley, by chance?" he questioned.

I furrowed my brow at the question. "Yes sir. He's my father."

"I thought I saw him in you. I knew him back in our prime. He's a good man, but took no shit from anyone," Sink stated.

I smiled at him. "Yes, sir."

"I'm going to be frank with you, Miss Finley. The thing about Sobel you have to keep in mind, he is trying to be the best there is in the military. He will not tolerate any misbehaving or undermining of his authority while he is in charge-"

"Which is why he treats the men the way that he does," I added.

Sink nodded. "That's right. Listen carefully, he will not hesitate to find a way to get you dismissed from your assignment. Now, I've heard about what's happened to your father back home, which is why- as I understand it- you have volunteered for this job. Am I correct?"

I nodded, allowing him to continue.

"If Sobel gets you dismissed from your assignment, you'll not be able to find work with the newspaper again. You'll be out of a job, out of money, and out of luck. Now, I am warning you as a favor to John. Try your best to get along with Sobel or stay out of his way," Sink suggested.

I inhaled deeply, gritting my teeth to keep from talking back and just nodded that I heard him.

Sink placed a hand on my shoulder. "Good girl. I'll come talk to you again when the time gets closer for us to head overseas so that we can discuss your situation."

I nodded curtly as he walked away from me. I wasn't thrilled to be told that I had to play nice with the bully of the group, but I appreciated that he was being honest with me to tell me up front that if Sobel decided to get rid of me, there'd be nothing to stop him. If I had to steer clear of him, then that is what I was going to do.

For the next several weeks, I stayed as far away from Sobel as possible. I didn't want to risk being sent home and be unable to provide for my family. The only thing I kept thinking about was how I didn't want to be stuck in some factory or warehouse making bullet casings or sewing uniforms. It didn't pay as well as this gig did, so I really tried my best to stay as hidden as possible.

I walked into the mess hall to grab a bite to eat. The moment that I entered, all eyes fell upon me. I stopped dead in my tracks until the staring eyes finally went back to their meals. I stepped in line and grabbed a plate of whatever slop they were feeding us and sat in the corner where there was no one around.

"Haven't seen you around in a while," a familiar voice spoke in front of me.

I glanced up to see the friendly face of Roe. I returned his smile and he sat down across from me. I said, "Yeah, I've just been keeping a low profile."

"Really low. I thought you went home," he admitted.

I chuckled. "Apparently so did everyone else by the looks I got when I walked in here."

"Why have you been lurking in the shadows?" he asked.

I smirked at his choice of words. "Well, I need to steer clear of Sobel for a while. It was brought to my attention that should he deem it necessary to send me home, he'd succeed, and I need this job."

Roe nodded that he understood. "So, what have you been doing this whole time?"

"Lurking in the shadows, mostly," I replied, using his words from moments before.

He laughed. "Well, I'm glad you're still here."

"Yeah, me too," I admitted.

"Miss Finley?" a new voice asked.

I looked up and saw a young man standing beside me. "Yes?"

"Colonel Sink has requested your presence at your earliest convenience."

I nodded. "Okay. Thank you."

The man walked away, and I turned to look at Roe. "Wonder if I didn't stay in the shadows long enough."

Roe shrugged. "Could be nothing."

"Could be everything," I muttered. I quickly finished my meal and stood up to leave.

"Find me when you're done?" he asked.

I nodded. "If I'm still here, that is."

I left the mess hall and headed towards Sink's office. I had no idea what I was walking into and I felt like all of my defenses were down. I hated not being prepared for things, and when I spotted Sobel standing outside the building, my nerves started to build.

Inside the building, I was led to Sink's office. Once inside, Sink motioned for me to sit down in front of his desk, which I obeyed.

Sink asked, "How are you doing?"

I folded my hands in my lap. "I've been all right, I suppose. Wondering why I'm here."

Sink smiled. "You're not in any trouble, don't worry."

"I saw Captain Sobel standing outside and I thought-"

"You thought that he had finally decided to get rid of you?" Sink finished.

I nodded and waited.

Sink laughed. "Actually, he thought you had left on your own accord, to be honest. He was surprised when I sent for you."

I chuckled. "Well, you did ask that I keep a low profile."

"And you've done just that," he replied.

I swallowed, still nervous about why he wanted to see me. I was growing impatient as I waited for him to get to the point.

Sink looked up from his paperwork and stated, "We're heading out. We're going to be heading to New York to board a ferry that will take us to England."

"England?" I asked. As far as I knew, England had no action to speak of. I didn't understand why we were being sent that way.

Sink must have seen the confusion on my face because he continued, "We're heading there for more training, and they have airfields big enough for our entire Airborne operations. Now, I've not informed the men of this. They have no idea where we are heading, and I hope that you will be discreet in keeping this secret from them."

"So, why are you telling me?" I asked.

He replied, "Because I know that you are not military. You'll be heading over to England on your own and rejoining us later."

"So...I'm to find a flight over there?" I asked, confused.

He nodded. "I'll be giving you the name of a pilot who is in charge of sending our supplies over, and they will be flying some of our officers as well. He said he can take you over there."

I thought it over and asked, "When am I supposed to head out?"

"Tonight."

"Tonight?" I repeated. "Seems pretty short notice."

"We are at war and nothing is ever planned with more notice than you're given," he said.

I stood up from my seat. "Well, I better go pack then."

Sink handed me a piece of folded paper. "This has all the information you need to get you over to England and to the base. I've signed all the required documents in this folder." He pulled a folder out of his desk drawer and passed it to me. He added, "You'll be there before any of us, but that should get you situated and informed about what will happen to you once we head into battle."

I looked at the folder in my hands, but I never opened it. I glanced back up at him and he offered me a kind smile, which I returned.

"I'd also suggest that you bid farewell to your family before you leave. It might be the last time you see them for a while," Sink stated darkly.

I knew what he meant. He wasn't talking about the fact that this war would take a while. He was referring to the fact that I might not make it home alive. He was giving me time to see my family once more before I left them, possibly forever.

I nodded and extended my hand to him. "Thank you."

He reached out and shook my hand. "Tell your father that I said hello."

I released his hold and said, "I will."

"I'll see you in England," he added.

I smiled, giving him a curt nod before turning and leaving his office.

I finished packing my things into my father's old duffel he had given me, and I slung my camera bag over my shoulder before walking out of the tent.

Roe spotted me from across the way and came over to me. "Where are you going?"

I met his concerned eyes and replied, "I can't tell you."

"What? Was it Sobel? What did Sink say?" he asked, clearly upset.

I gave him a half smile and replied, "I wish I could tell you, but I've been sworn to secrecy."

"Jane, what happened? Talk to me, please," he begged.

The look on his face was breaking my heart, even though I knew that I'd see him again in a few weeks, but there was just something that was pulling on my heartstrings. I sighed heavily. "If I tell you, you have to promise that you'll keep it to yourself."

"I promise," he said.

I studied his face for a moment before realizing that I believed him. "We're moving out. We're heading to England."

"When?" he asked.

I shrugged. "I don't know, but Colonel Sink has given me enough warning to go home and see my family one more time before we are shipped out to war. I want to take that time to say my goodbyes."

"England, though? Why there?" he mused out loud.

I replied, "There's a base there. You'll be doing more training and eventually flying out to war, using their airstrips. I guess they are big enough to handle our Airborne."

Roe nodded. "Makes sense...but why are you not coming with us?"

"I think Sink wanted to make sure that I spent some time with my family before leaving. I've got all the documents required to rejoin you in England," I stated.

"I'm going to miss you," he admitted.

I smiled. "I'll miss you too. It's going to be a long few weeks without seeing your face."

He sighed. "I best not keep you any longer. I'll see you over there."

"You bet. And um...don't say anything to anyone about what I told you," I said again.

He nodded. "Not a word."

I gave him a hug and whispered, "Take care, Eugene."

"I'll see you soon," he whispered back.

We pulled away from one another and I headed to the Jeep that would take me to the bus station that would eventually take me back home.

I stepped out of the cab that had taken me back home. I stood outside of the house, looking at it. For some reason, it felt different being home. There was almost a heaviness to the house and I wasn't sure why.

I climbed the short steps up to the door and reached for the doorknob but stopped. I felt like I had to knock on my own door, and so I did. I waited for someone to come answer the door, and eventually knocked louder.

When I saw movement behind the frosted glass, I knew someone was finally coming. The door opened, and I was face to face with my mother. She stood there, staring at me. I couldn't put my finger on the emotion behind her expression, but I knew for certain that it wasn't happiness.

"Hello, mother," I spoke first.

She blinked at me. "I thought you were gone."

"They gave me some time to spend with you and father before I was shipped overseas," I explained.

She continued staring at me, not making any movements to allow me into the house. "How long are you in town for?"

I furrowed my brow. "What do you ask?"

"I already said my goodbyes," she started.

"Mom, I'm not asking-"

"You'll do well to just leave," she stated.

"Wait a minute, what about dad? Doesn't he get a say in this?" I asked.

She shook her head. "We're both very disappointed in you-"

"What for?" I demanded to know.

She sighed. "I'm not getting into this with you."

"Let me talk to dad-"

"Goodbye, Jane," she said as she started to close the door.

I wedged my foot in between the door and the frame. "Wait! Talk to me, please! Why are you so angry with me? Is the money not coming here?"

"It's not about the money!" my mother shouted.

"Then what is it?" I begged to know.

"Why can't you learn your place?" she shouted.

"What does that mean?" I asked.

She glared at me. "You had to go and get a job, a man's job-"

"To support you and dad!" I shouted back.

"I told you not to! We didn't need your help!"

"If I didn't do it, who would have? Dad can't work anymore!" I retorted.

"Get out of my house! You're not welcome here!" she shouted again, trying to slam the door on my foot.

Before she could fully slam the door closed, I spied my dad standing in the doorway to the kitchen, which could be seen from the front door. Our eyes locked, and I could see the sadness and disappointment within his eyes, but he didn't do or say anything to stop my mother.

I withdrew my foot from the frame, allowing the front door to slam in my face. The click to the lock was heard, and the shades were pulled. I felt my shoulders drop in defeat and I turned to leave, only to be face to face with several neighbors staring at me.

I blinked the tears away as I picked up my things and started down the steps. I could feel the heat of everyone's eyes following me down the sidewalk as I headed back to the main road in hopes of catching a cab that would take me to the airport.

It took every fiber of my being to keep from crying. My own family had disowned me for getting a job to support them, so that my injured father wouldn't have to risk his life anymore by trying to work. It didn't even dawn on me that they were keeping the money I was sending to them.


	6. Forever With You

I arrived in England and suddenly wished that I had a heavier coat. It was rainy, cold, and overcast practically every day. The people seemed nice enough, but it wasn't home. I found myself thinking about home, how things were left back at my parents' house, and I even wondered how Roe was doing and when he would be arriving.

I spent a lot of my time getting to know the men on the base, taking their pictures, and watching them train. I even got some pictures of the men dressed in the enemies' uniforms. I thought if anything, my boss could twist the image to read something about my meeting up with some of the enemy and creating some bogus story. It was something he would do, and I'm sure he would. I didn't care as long as I got paid.

I kept busy, kept out of the way, and wrote in my journal to pass the time. Weeks had gone by before word had reached my ears that Easy Company and the others were arriving that evening. Since hearing that news, my heart was light and excited. I couldn't wait to see familiar faces, including Eugene's.

When they finally arrived, they were too busy trying to get settled in, talking to the Englishmen dressed in German uniforms, and wondering where the food was. I spied several men that I recognized, but failed to see Roe. The one thing that I had noticed was how exhausted each man looked. I began to wonder if I would see Roe tomorrow.

Sobel had glanced my direction but didn't seem to notice me in the swarm of people. I was thankful for that as I didn't want to have another fight with that man.

When my eyes finally landed on a familiar face, I smiled wide and started making my way over to him. He turned around, just before I had reached him, and our eyes locked. He smiled at me and met me half way.

"You're here already!" he stated.

I smiled. "I've been here for a few weeks."

Roe hugged me. "Why? I thought you were visiting your family one last time."

"That was the initial plan."

"They weren't home?" he asked.

I thought about what I wanted to say. "Something like that."

I didn't want him to worry or question what my parents' mental stability was or how it would impact me. I was just happy that he was finally here.

"So, anything about England that I should know about?" he asked with a smile.

"It's always cold, always raining, and the food is...well, interesting," I admitted.

He chuckled. "Good to know."

I walked with him for a short while before he added, "It's good to see you, Jane."

"You too, Eugene. I was beginning to wonder when you'd actually show," I stated.

He laughed. "Well, we had to take a train to New York, followed by a boat to England, and buses to get here."

I raised my eyebrows. "Quite the journey. I feel lucky that I didn't have quite that trip."

"And the men started getting stir crazy below decks and started fighting with each other," he said.

"Oh no! Now I am really glad that I was not aboard the boat!" I chuckled.

He smiled at me again and stopped. "Well, I best get my things into my barracks. I'll see you around though."

I nodded. "I hope so!"

We exchanged smiles and each turned to go our separate ways.

As I headed towards my tent, I found myself caught in the middle of a fight. A soldier stopped me before I aimlessly waltzed into the circle in which they were fighting. I asked the man who stopped me, "What's going on? Why are they fighting?"

"They're fighting because that tall one there has been bullying the smaller guy there. I guess the smaller guy finally snapped."

"Bullying him? Over what?" I asked, thinking this whole thing stupid.

The guy shrugged. "Beats me, but my money's on the little guy."

I sighed. I hated this power struggle that seemed to come from some men whenever they were grouped together for extended periods of time. If I was able to break up the fight, I would have in a heartbeat.

Shouts and whistles were heard, men scattered except for the two fighting, a couple soldiers, and me. The MPs showed up and began to break up the fight.

One of the MPs asked, "What's the meaning of this? Who started this fight?"

The big guy looked at the smaller one, with half a smirk. "This punk here. He started it."

"That's not true! You've been riding my ass this whole time!" the smaller man shouted back.

The MPs separated them again. "Looks like you're going to be heading to a court martial or back home."

The look on the shorter man's face was heartbreaking to me. When I looked back at the taller soldier, I noticed he was an officer, and he was sniggering. My blood began to boil.

I stepped forward. "Actually, it wasn't this guy's fault."

The MPs glanced my direction. "What was that?"

I could feel the burning gaze from the officer. If looks could kill, I'd have been burned on the spot. "This guy didn't start the fight."

"You sure about that?" the MP asked. I could see the worried look in his eyes, almost as if he knew that if I kept to my story, the officer would most likely be out to get me later. He was already memorizing me for such an event.

I nodded. "Yes sir."

"She's lying. You're going to believe this little girl over me?" he asked.

The MPs asked, "Anyone else here see who started this fight?"

When no one wanted to brave the situation and I realized that the MPs might just let this one slide, I motioned to the camera that was slung over my shoulder. "I've got pictures. Of course, we'd have to send them back to get developed, which might make for a really long wait in a jail cell, or you could just take my word for it."

The MPs looked down at my camera and let the smaller man go. The reached for the officer who immediately started to fight them. "Come on man, don't fight us!"

"You're going to regret this, bitch! I'll make sure you get what's coming to you!" the angry officer shouted at me as the MPs dragged him away.

Once the crowd dispersed, the smaller man approached me. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," I replied.

"Why'd you do that? Why risk your life and career for someone like me?" he asked.

"Someone like you? Why not? I mean, what's so different about you than anyone else?" I asked.

He smiled. "Gary Parker."

I shook his hand. "Jane Finley."

"Did you really get pictures?" he asked.

I whispered, "No, but they don't know that."

He laughed. "Quite the bluff."

I shrugged my shoulders and started to walk away when the man followed me.

"I am curious...why did you do that?"

I stopped and looked at him. "Honestly? I never could stand bullies."

Gary stood there and watched as I walked away from him. I didn't want to know why he was the target of such behavior, but I knew that in due time, I'd probably find out more about that situation than I'd ever want to know.

The next few days were difficult to adjust to as Sobel had finally spotted me and I had to continue lurking in the shadows to avoid his attitude. Of course, by lurking in the shadows meant that any time I would have had to spend with Roe was taken away from me.

I spent the next few days trying to get pictures of the men training, but ended up wasting more film on the landscapes around the base instead. I knew that it wasn't what I should be taking pictures of, but I didn't have much choice. Everything was closed off to me or Sobel was there.

Once the men were familiar with the routine of their daily lives, Roe and I were finally able to spend some time together. We talked a lot during our time with one another, speaking about family and what we were doing before the war, and what we hoped to do once it was over -should we survive.

It was easy to talk to Eugene and it felt natural. It was never forced with him, and I began to feel like we were growing closer together than just friends.

Eugene and I walked around the base together, as we did every day whenever we had a spare moment.

"How was the visit with your family?" he asked.

I released a long sigh. "Wasn't what I expected."

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"Well, they practically disowned me," I replied.

He furrowed his brow. "What? Why?"

"I don't really know, but my mom refused to let me inside the house, started yelling at me, which got all the neighbors to come out and stare at us, and slammed the door in my face," I said.

"What about your dad?" he asked.

I shook my head. "He just stood there, letting it happen."

"I'm sorry," Roe replied.

I gave him a sympathetic smile. "It is what it is. I don't understand it, but...what can you do?"

"What about the money?" he asked.

"What money?" I started but then I understood his question. "Oh. The money I'm making for doing this...it's still going to them."

"Really?" he asked. "You're not going to stop sending it to them?"

"Well, the whole point to my coming out here was to help my father. I thought that if I took this job, they would be set up for life, or until I got home. When the fight happened, I didn't even think about the money...not until you mentioned it just now," I admitted.

"So...are you going to keep sending it to them?" he asked again.

I shrugged. "I guess. I mean, they may just be mad that I'm doing this, and maybe they are behaving this way in hopes that I will just come home, begging for forgiveness-"

"Or they will continue to treat you this way and just keep your money," he suggested.

I nodded in agreement. "That's always a possibility, too."

"I think you should stop sending them money," he told me.

I understood what he was saying, but I still held some small hope that my family still wanted me to come home. Maybe I was being played the naive fool, but I couldn't give up on my family. If I found myself alive after the end of this war and back on my family's steps, and if they didn't want me back even then, well...I guess that I was wrong. Until then, I didn't want to think about it.

Roe asked, "So, have you gotten any useful pictures since you've been here?"

I chuckled. "I don't know what you'd consider useful. I don't even know what will be used, if anything. I just take pictures of everything and hope that I get paid."

Roe laughed. "I'm sure you'll do just fine."

We walked a ways in silence before I asked, "So...tell me something. Do you have anyone back home, missing you?"

Roe raised an eyebrow at me. "Someone? You mean, like family?"

"Well, yes, family...but I was thinking more along the lines of a sweetheart or something," I explained.

He shook his head. "Not really."

I could tell by the expression on his face that he didn't want to talk about it. I didn't want to make him uncomfortable by pushing him into a conversation that he didn't want to talk about, so I changed the subject. "It's a nice day out today."

He looked up into the clear sky. "Yeah, it is."

"For once," I added.

He laughed. "Yes. For once, it's a nice day."

We looked at one another, sharing a laugh before someone approached us. "Miss Finley?"

"Yes?"

"Colonel Sink wishes to speak with you," the young kid said.

I looked at Roe. "I guess I'll see you later."

We waved to one another as I turned to follow the young man to Sink's office. I wondered what it was this time.

I entered the office of Sink and waited for him to acknowledge my presence. When he finally looked up, he motioned for me to sit before him.

"How are you doing, Miss Finley?" he asked.

I replied, "I'm fine, sir. How are you?"

He smiled. "Just fine. I wanted to let you know what the plan is going to be for you in the next couple of days."

I waited for him to continue. I had a quick flashback to how he said this to me just before he sent me home...which had ended in disaster.

"Soon, the men will be heading to Europe to join the war efforts there. I cannot tell you the exact day or time, but I need to inform you of what will happen to you specifically."

I nodded to let him know that I was still following along with him. It was a habit that I had formed while my father would speak. He wanted to make sure that I understood him as he spoke, and also to make sure that I was still listening to him. I had taken that habit with me all of my adult years.

Sink continued, "Now, as you know, it's too dangerous for you to be jumping behind the lines with the men, not to mention that you lack the proper training to do so. That leaves very few options for you to get over there with them."

I knew that I lacked the training to jump. The thought had never occurred to me that I would be jumping, but I always wondered what they were planning on doing with me.

"Once the order to attack is given, and once things are organized and deemed safe enough for the officers to join the troops on the mainland, we will bring you along so you can rejoin Easy Company," he stated.

"How am I getting there?" I asked.

"There will be a boat that most of the officers from headquarters will be on. That's the boat we will be putting you on and will join them on the ride to the mainland once things are safe enough to come over," he explained.

"And you don't know when we are leaving?' I asked.

"I do, but unfortunately, I can't tell you that right now," he replied.

"When will you be telling me?" I asked.

"When it's necessary."

"So, I should be prepared to leave at any time?" I questioned.

He nodded. "Let me just say that this is more information than I am supposed to be giving you."

"Then why are you?" I asked.

"As a favor to your father," he replied.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "No offense, sir, but there is only so many favors you can give my father after all these years. Besides, I'm sure that he doesn't want me to have any special treatments."

"I doubt that very much, Jane. He's always spoken highly of you," Sink stated.

I pursed my lips in doubt. I felt like what he had said was just words, especially after how I was treated when I went to have my last visit with family. My father just stood there and watched as I was disowned by the family. How could he consider me in any regard, high or otherwise, when he just stood there? It didn't make sense to me, but instead of fighting Sink on matters which I felt he didn't know anything about, I just nodded that I heard him.

"Just be prepared to leave, Jane. It could be any time now," Sink warned. I knew enough to know that he was telling me that it was coming very soon.

I nodded and stood up. "Thank you, sir. I'll go prepare."

Sink smiled as he stood up with me and shook my hand. "I'll see you over there when the time comes."

I released his hand and headed outside of the building.

Once I was outside, I spied Roe waiting for me. When our eyes locked, he smiled at me, but the smile quickly vanished when he saw the look on my face. "What's wrong?"

"I think I'll be leaving again soon," I stated.

"What? When?" he asked.

"I don't know, but Sink made it sound like it's going to be very soon," I admitted.

Roe asked, "Why though? Where are you going?"

"My guess is that I will be shipped to the coast where I'll be put on a boat and will be there until they tell me that I can come join you and the rest of the Company. I'm not sure how long that will be," I said.

I could see the thoughts running wild through his head. The emotions on his face were so many and so rapid that it was hard to see what he was thinking.

He looked at me and said, "Then I guess we better make good use of the time we have until you rejoin us over there."

He took my hand and led me down the lane.

"Where are we going?" I asked, laughing as he pulled me along.

We spent the afternoon together, walking about the base, and even the surrounding woods nearby.

I asked, stepping over a fallen tree, "Are we allowed to be out here?"

Roe shrugged. "Probably not, but we're here now."

"You're a bad influence," I stated with a smirk.

He turned to face me. "I'm the bad influence?"

I nodded. "You are the one who brought me here. It was your idea, so yes."

He smiled at me. "If anyone is a bad influence, it's you."

"I beg to differ."

"I never broke rules before you," he admitted.

"Oh, so you're a goody two-shoes?" I asked.

He nodded. "You know me so well."

We continued walking through the woods. I finally asked, "Do you know where you're going?"

He nodded. "I found this nice spot when we were out here for a training exercise, and it's taking me a little longer to find than I had originally thought."

I held in a laugh. "So you're not a scout. Got to remember that."

He glanced over his shoulder at me. "You're funny."

"I know. You love it."

He stopped and smiled. "We're almost there."

"You sure?" I joked.

He motioned me forward. "This way."

I followed him through the brush and into a small clearing that overlooked a river. It was serene, untouched, and beautiful. It took the breath from you. I looked over at him and said, "This is beautiful."

He smiled, clearly proud of himself. "I saw this and thought of you."

I studied his face for a moment before turning my attention back to the breathtaking scene. "Can we just stay here forever? Never leave?"

He chuckled. "I think that would be considered going AWOL."

"You think someone would find us out here?" I joked. "It was troublesome to find, after all."

He laughed. "I'm not a scout, as you so eloquently pointed out earlier."

"Did you bring water?" I asked.

He nodded. "Even a little provisions if you need it."

I stated, "We've got food and water, we can stay here for the rest of the war."

He smirked. "I didn't bring that much."

"Don't ruin the moment with your logical thinking..." I laughed.

He stood next to me and I could feel the warmth coming from him. "If I could stay here for the rest of my life with you, I would in a heartbeat."

I looked into his dark eyes. "Uh..."

He leaned in and kissed me gently on the lips. For a moment, the world had slowed. The sounds of the river quieted and the rustling of the tree leaves had stopped. For one perfect moment, the world was right; there was no war, no waiting transport. In this perfect moment, all I felt was happiness being with Eugene.

The moment his lips left mine, all sorts of thoughts came rushing into my head. I began to wonder if the only reason he was kissing me, showing me any interest, spending time with me, was all due to the fact that the inevitable was approaching. It wasn't uncommon for men to have quick romances with a girl before being shipped out because they think they will die before the war was over. I had several thoughts similar to this rushing through my mind that I had to force myself to silence them.

Roe and I had spent so much time together since I met him. We became fast friends, but I wasn't sure that we were soul mates. I wasn't ready to base an entire relationship off one kiss that was probably more geared towards nerves of the impending jump than any real feelings. If we were to solidify a relationship, we'd have to continue nursing this feeling. I wasn't one of those girls to just fall head over heels for a man just because of one kiss...no matter how amazing that kiss was.

My heart was mocking me, Don't ruin this feeling with your logical thinking.

My brain was telling me, Take it slow. He might not survive the jump. You might not survive the war.

When we arrived back to the base, Roe walked me to my barracks to pack my things for my ride out. The moment we neared the building, I could see a couple of men standing outside. Their eyes landed on us the moment we were in view and they did not look happy.

"Miss Finley? Care to explain where you've been this whole time?" one asked me.

I asked, "Is there a problem?"

"We were sent to collect you hours ago-"

I cut the man off. "Collect?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Collect? Like I'm some trinket for you to just pick up and put in your pocket? You might want to rethink your words, soldier," I retorted.

Roe muttered under his breath, "Tread lightly with these guys."

I looked at Roe and replied, "I don't care. They need to treat people with a little more grace and dignity."

The soldiers stepped forward and one said, "We were ordered to escort you to your awaiting ride to the coast. Because of your disappearance, things have been delayed and you're already in a lot of trouble. I wouldn't press your luck any further by pissing us off."

The second soldier added, "Haven't you ever heard of not killing the messenger?"

I looked at the once silent soldier and replied, "Yes, but I like killing the messenger. You know why? It sends a message!"

Roe pulled on my arm slightly and whispered into my ear, "You need to stop. If they wanted to, they could shoot you on sight and make up some bogus story about why they did it. Just stop."

I furrowed my brow at him, but saw the concern in his eyes. "What aren't you telling me?"

"They used to work directly under Sobel. Now that Sobel's gone, they might take it out on you since he hated you so much. Please, just stop being difficult," Roe warned.

I sighed heavily. I turned to the men and said, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be taking it out on you. It's been a very long and trying day. I'm sorry that I wasn't ready and awaiting for you as ordered."

The men still had unhappy faces, but at least they backed off the attitude slightly.

I turned to Roe, who still looked concerned for me. "Hey. I'll be okay. I'll see you over there."

Roe looked like he had more to tell me, but couldn't as we had an audience. Instead, he said, "I'll see you over there. Until then, take care of yourself."

"You too. Stay alive," I ordered.

I turned back to my barracks and said as I passed by the soldiers in waiting, "I'll be a moment. Just need to get my things."

"You've got five minutes," the first man stated.

I gritted my teeth, trying to play nice as ordered by Roe. I realized that it was going to be a rough travel day with those two, but I kept telling myself that it was only going to be a short amount of time before I was reunited with Roe...at least, that's what I had hoped.


	7. Light Up The Dark

The travel day was not as quick as I had hoped it would be. The soldiers drove me to the naval yard and made sure that I boarded the ship in which I was to ride over to Europe. I began to wonder why there was such a tight leash on me, but then I remembered that Roe and I had spent the day together, almost hiding from everyone. It most likely got us into some trouble.

The drive was quiet. The men didn't speak a word to me. Not even to ask if I was okay or if I needed a break. I suppose it was better for all three of us to not speak at all. If Roe was correct in his assumption that these men held a grudge against me for what happened with Sobel, the last thing I needed to do was get myself killed while in their 'care'.

When we finally arrived to the naval yard and I was inside my room, I pulled out my journal and began writing all about the events that led me to this very moment. It had been a while since I had written anything and as I continued writing, the pages began filling up and the time had begun to fly by. The moment I closed the cover to my journal, word had gotten to everyone on board that we were heading out into open waters, ready to make our mark on history.

I wasn't told what was going to happen once we neared Europe. I didn't know who was going to be attacking first, whether it was the Airborne or the Seaborne, but I knew that it would be quite a while before I would set foot on solid ground again. I would have to wait until our men had secured the landing zone, and no one knew how long that was going to be. The only thing that we knew for certain was that the enemy would be expecting us and many men would die trying to secure the area. I prayed that everyone would be safe, even though I knew that people were going to die. I prayed most of all that my friends, especially Eugene, would survive their jump into occupied territory. I wanted Roe to survive. I needed him to survive.

Very early the next morning, I felt the ship rolling to a stop. I grabbed my bag, slinging it over my shoulder and headed up to the deck. I stood on the deck with the officers as we looked out across the ocean at the mainland.

I could see the bright flashes lighting up the dark morning sky. I could hear faint booms echoing across the waters. I stood there in dumbstruck awe as I watched the beginning of war unfold. It suddenly occurred to me that I should be taking pictures. This is why I was here after all.

I pulled the camera from my bag and began taking pictures of the scene before me. I wasn't confident that much would turn out as I took the pictures because of the hour, but if they did turn out, these would be surreal.

I heard a familiar voice speak beside me. "Miss Finley. Nice of you to finally join us."

I lowered the camera from my face and looked over. "Yes sir. Sorry about that."

Sink smiled as he turned back to watch the mainland. "You have become quite difficult to locate."

"Well, you said lay low..." I started.

"Not that low," he replied under his breath.

I smiled and asked, "What happened to Sobel?"

"Reassigned."

I knew better than to press my luck with getting more information than that. The fact that he had already pushed the boundaries of what to tell me was obvious and the last thing that I needed to do was to put him on the spot with his COs nearby by asking for more details.

"How long until we join the men on the mainland?" I asked.

Sink shrugged. "Depends on how quickly they work. We've already received word that something went wrong with the drop zones for the Airborne. We're not sure what happened, but we are hoping that didn't impact them too severely. As for the Seaborne...well, as long as they push hard and fast up the beach to the bunkers, they may do just fine."

I studied his face. He seemed confident, but there was also that obvious fear spread across his face. I turned back to watch the battle from the safety of my boat, suddenly more afraid for the men who were over there than I was just a moment before. Hearing that things were already not going according to plan had me panicked for those I cared about...like Roe.

I hadn't spent all of my time with him, but we had spent a lot of what little time we did have together and there was certainly a connection there. I never realized how strong that feeling was until this moment where I was worried for him, more so than any friend would feel for someone.

Sink whispered, "I think you best head back to your bunk, Jane. We'll send for you when it's time to head to shore."

I nodded and took one last long look at the battle on the beach. I said another silent prayer for those landing before turning back into the boat. Waiting was hell, and it would be a long wait before I was sent for. Waiting meant that my mind had time to think and worry, and worrying meant that I was thinking up scenarios in which many turned out badly for those I cared about. There was nothing to do but wait and worry, and it made me sick to my stomach.

The time had finally arrived when I was sent for and brought up to the deck of the ship. Sink and a few of his orderlies were ready to sail to the shore. He had explained to me that I would be sticking with them until they could reach Easy Company further inland.

I secured my helmet to my head and was ready to go. Truth was, I needed to get off this damned boat before I lost what little sanity I had left. I knew that it was all due to the anxiety I had while waiting, but I never was one to wait.

The boat ride to the mainland was rocky. I felt a bit queasy as the boat crashed about on the waves and finally understood why so many had gotten seasick riding in these. I hoped that I wouldn't throw up on the way over. It was bad enough that I was getting nasty stares from some of the men for even being here, but it was also challenging when some of those men were fond of Sobel and held a grudge for what happened, even though I wasn't to blame.

I stared at the horizon, watching the mainland get bigger and suddenly, I began seeing the bodies floating in the red tinted water. A lump had formed in my throat. If I didn't want to throw up before, this certainly would have caused that feeling to arise.

The boat's driver shouted, "You're going to have to climb out here! There's too much debris to push through!"

Sink nodded and they began lowering the door to the boat. The moment it crashed down onto the water, the scene that lay before us was horrifying. My stomach lurched and fell, my heart stopped, and I wanted to cry. I was beginning to question why I was here, why I was stupid enough to think that I could do this job. I didn't know if I would be capable of taking pictures of the effects of war, the dead men that lay on the sand while their blood stained the beaches. I wasn't sure of anything the moment the doors had opened.

Sink had jumped into the waist deep water and turned to see me staring out before me. "Jane! Let's go!"

I forced myself to move forward. I didn't want to. I wanted to go home but I remembered that I couldn't go home. As I jumped into the water behind Sink, I began to remember why I chose to come here. I was here seeing what war was like, knowing that it was seeing images like this to understand the severity of the issues. I wanted to make people aware back home just how awful war was, why we were under the restrictions we were, and show them that no matter how much the news tried to tell us that things were going well, that they weren't. People needed to see the truth.

It was at this very moment that I remembered that I needed to take these pictures, not just for the people back home, but for the people who died, and for the people in the future to understand just how horrible war was, the impact that it had on everyone and everything, and to make a difference in how people perceived the world.

The moment my shaky legs reached the shore, I started taking pictures of everything I could. I took pictures of medics trying to mend wounds with wet bandages, of men gathering the dead, of men smoking and talking about what they had just endured these past few hours. I took pictures of the damage to the beach, to the bunkers in the hills, and the boats in the water, waiting for orders. I wanted to capture everything and the more I took pictures, the more invested in my mission I became.

I heard the camera click, knowing that I had already used a whole roll of film, and it needed to be replaced. I used two and a half rolls of film on this beach alone. I suspected that I would be doing the same in the future as we continued inward. This was only the beginning of this war. There would be many more battles over an extended period of time so I would have plenty to document, should I survive long enough, that is. I also knew that I would need to be careful not to blow through so much of my film as I wasn't sure how frequently I would be restocked by The Times.

"Jane!" I heard Sink shout.

I looked over my shoulder and spied him waving me over to him. I jogged over to him.

"We're going to be heading out with the 10th Armored Division. They said they have heard that men are gathering at an old farmhouse a few miles from here. My guess is that Easy Company has assembled there," he explained.

I nodded and followed Sink to his Jeep. Climbing into the back seat, I stared out at the scene we were leaving behind. We had lost so many men on that beach and I was afraid of how many we had lost behind the lines.

The drive to this old farmhouse was challenging. We ran into some of our men, we ran into some of the enemy, we had to detour around debris and roadblocks, but we eventually made it to our destination.

We knew we had taken control of the farmhouse when we spied more and more of our men about. I began to release the breath I had been holding when I started to see our men. Many of them looked completely untouched, but there were a few who had seen better days.

When we drove into the property and the driver parked the Jeep, I jumped out of the backseat and looked for familiar faces.

Sink looked at one of the soldiers and ordered, "I'm looking for the COs of each Company gathered. Bring them here as soon as you find them."

"Yes sir," the man said with a salute before running off to find the men.

I looked at Sink and asked, "Should I look for members of Easy?"

Sink nodded. "That would be fine. There should be a few of them around."

I began my search for familiar faces. I saw so many men around the grounds, but none of them looked familiar to me. Many of the men gave me strange glances and I knew it was because I was the only female around for quite possibly miles.

I rounded the corner and spied someone I actually knew. "Luz!"

He turned around. "Hey! You made it!"

I approached him, giving him a hug when I reached him and asked, "How was your jump?"

"Oh, you know, like training, except we had people firing at us," he joked.

"Who else is here?" I asked, looking around.

"Maybe ten of us walking about out here, looking for someone to tell us what we need to do," he replied.

It wasn't the answer I was looking for, but I wasn't about to ask him specifics. If 10 men from Easy Company had survived, I knew that more would most likely be around soon. It was just a matter of time before they started showing up.

Loud booms echoes nearby. They were pretty close as it rattled my ribcage. I cringed with each explosion that was heard. I asked, "What is that?"

Luz shrugged. "They think there's a battery nearby. I'm thinking it's over that way." He pointed towards the fields and added, "And I bet you that we're gonna be the ones to go out there and silence 'em."

I smiled. "Well, you are the best, aren't you?"

"Always," he replied, smiling at me. "You joining us out there?"

"And do what? Shoot the enemy with my camera?" I joked.

He laughed. "At least you'd be shooting something."

"Hey! Look what the cat dragged in!" another familiar voice shouted.

I looked over Luz's shoulder to see Liebgott. He smiled as he approached us. "Hey Lieb."

"When'd you get here?" he asked. "You're late to the party."

"Looks like I'm arriving just in time from the sound of it," I said, referring to the battery in the fields.

Liebgott smirked. "Eh, maybe. Should be interesting to see who they choose to go out there. I'm thinking it's not us."

"Why do you say that?" I asked.

"There's only a handful of us here. I think there's more men from Dog Company here than Easy," he pointed out.

Luz took a drag from his cigarette. "We are the best, Lieb. Don't you think they'd send their best?"

I waited for Liebgott's response. It was what I had said to Luz not seconds before, but Lieb didn't see to think it was true. "Maybe," he muttered.

I saw Winters walking over to Compton and exchanging some words. Compton nodded and started to head towards us. When he neared, he ordered, "Easy Company! Gather at the barn. We've got work to do."

Luz looked over at Liebgott. "Shoulda put money on it."

Liebgott groaned as he headed over to where we were ordered to assemble.

I followed them, unsure of what else I was supposed to do. I was assigned to Easy Company. I knew that I wouldn't be physically going into battle with them to take out the battery, but I also knew that eventually, I'd have no choice but to participate with some battles. It was inevitable. Whether that time was now or later, who could say.

Once inside the barn, Winters gave the run down of the mission. He assigned the men to specific groups and the men headed out to get ammo.

Winters looked at me. "I think it's best if you stay here for the time being."

I nodded. "I figured as much."

He asked, "Do you have a watch?"

I nodded again, raising my wrist so he could see it.

"Wait ten minutes after we leave and then request ammo to be sent out to us. We're going to need it," he stated.

"Okay. I can do that," I replied, unsure of who I would mention this important piece of information to, but I knew I'd figure it out somehow.

Winters offered me a kind smile. "It's good to see you, Jane."

"You too, sir," I said, returning the smile. It was true. I was happy to see that he had survived. I always thought he was a good man and a good friend. I hated what happened to him during Sobel's reign, but he had survived, much like I knew he'd survive this war. It was just a feeling to me.

I turned around to look at the men one last time before they were to head out and bumped into a man. "Sorry!"

The man looked up at me and flashed a familiar smile. "Jane!"

I blinked at my name and realized who I had bumped into. "Eugene!"

We quickly embraced one another, happy to see that we had survived day one. I pulled away and asked, "Are you okay?"

He nodded. "It's been a long day."

I smirked at the comment. I could only imagine how tiring it was for him. I had no place to comment as I had been brought to the farmhouse by Jeep and didn't have to worry about getting shot on the way out. "I'm glad you're okay."

He looked down at this feet for a second before glancing over his shoulder at the men. "I should get going. I'm probably going to be needed."

I nodded. "Yeah, of course."

"It's nice to see you, Jane! I'll see you when I return," he stated as he started to make his way to the rest of the men.

We waved to each other and I stood there watching as he headed out to the fields with the rest of the men.

He had survived the jump into occupied territory and here I was, watching him running off into a battle zone. I prayed he'd continue to survive. I felt this pang in my chest as he had disappeared from my sights. It was like looking at a miracle and having it ripped away from you. War was hell, and it wasn't going to be easy watching him risk his life every moment of every day as he helped those around him. I knew that I had to be strong for him.

I glanced down at my watch and noted the time. 0915. Ten minutes of waiting before I had to tell someone to send ammo out to them.

"Miss Finley," a voice spoke behind me.

I glanced over my shoulder. "Sir?"

Speirs stepped before me, towering over me. "Looking for someone?"

"No sir. Just waiting," I replied.

"On what?" he asked, eyeing me.

I felt like he was searching my soul for something. He was intimidating and I knew that if I were to be interrogated by him, I'd probably end up telling him things that I didn't even realize that I knew. "Winters had asked me to send someone out there in ten minutes with ammo."

He nodded as he looked out towards the fields of Brecourt. "And how long has it been?"

I looked down at my watch again. "Only two minutes, sir."

He glanced sideways at me. "I'll take the ammo out to him now."

"He said ten minutes though..."

"He'll need more men too. Thank you, Miss Finley," Speirs said as he rushed away from me.

I watched as he motioned for his men to assemble and he picked a handful of them, ordered them to strip most of their gear off, and take some ammo for themselves as he loaded the rest into a small bag.

Within a couple minutes, Speirs and his men headed towards the fields. I couldn't believe how quick he was to head into danger. I wondered if he was always this reckless or if he just didn't think he'd get killed. Whatever his reasoning was for his actions, I found myself intrigued but scared for him.

I wandered about the farm aimlessly before I took out my camera and started taking pictures of the area. I didn't have a lot to take pictures of, and found myself just sitting around waiting for the men to return.

I learned quickly that sitting around and waiting was one of the hardest things to do when there was a battle raging on nearby. Every sound made you tense up and fear for the people who were fighting. The longer I sat, the more my mind began drifting back to the moments before I landed on the beach with the officers. I remembered how beautiful yet terrifying the whole ordeal was. Then my mind got stuck on those that were still on the beach when my feet finally hit the sand. It was weird that I could still hear the tide crashing onto the blood stained sand, the smell of blood that filled the smoky air, the cries and moaning from those who were severely wounded and still clinging to life. I couldn't get my mind to stop focusing on those images. I felt sick to my stomach just knowing that this wasn't the last time I would feel this way. This was the first of many battles that I would have to endure and capture through the lens of my camera.

I began to feel deep regret in signing up for this. Maybe my parents were right in feeling the way they felt when they tried to tell me not to do this. I didn't listen and maybe I should have. Maybe they were just trying to protect me from this feeling, from these haunting images...but I didn't understand why they just didn't come out and say it. Perhaps there was another reason that was still unknown to me as to why they behaved the way that they did.

Getting lost in one's thoughts made time fly by. Before I knew it, the sounds of battle had stopped. I snapped out of my daze and listened. I wasn't sure if we were successful until I spied our men coming back from the fields. Roe was among them.

I jumped to my feet and started to approach them. Winters immediately began debriefing the officers present while the men sat down to enjoy some well deserved rest and water.

Roe glanced up at my approach and smiled at me. "Jane."

"Hey. How was it?" I asked.

He shrugged. "We lost a guy."

"Who?" I asked.

He replied, "Some guy from Able. I don't really know who he was."

I looked at the men. None of them seemed torn up over this man's death. I asked, "Why was he with you guys, if he was an Able man?"

Roe shrugged again. "I think he and Winters were together after the jump. I think he wanted to help out."

I nodded slowly, piecing the information together. What Eugene said made sense. It was unfortunate that none of the men from Easy had ever met this kid before today, and none of them were interested in mourning him. For some reason, this felt wrong to me.

I didn't get the chance to think things through for very long. We were given orders that we were moving to a small village just outside Brecourt to rest before we would head out.

As we began walking, I asked, "How was your jump?"

Roe looked at me briefly before turning his attention to the path. "As well as could be expected, I suppose."

"Did you...have trouble?" I asked. It felt like a stupid thing to ask, given the fact that we were surrounded behind enemy lines.

He shook his head. "No, not really. I was lucky enough to land nearby some familiar faces."

I felt myself calm slightly from hearing that. "That's good."

He gave me a half smile. "You sound relieved."

"I'm just happy that you made it okay."

"How was your trip in?" Roe asked.

I thought about my answer. What would I tell him, that the explosions in the night sky while he was in a plane was beautiful? Would I tell him about the beaches? I hesitated and he saw it.

"It's okay. You don't have to tell me," he stated.

"What?" I asked, blinking out of my thoughts.

He repeated, "You don't have to tell me."

"Oh, it's not that. I just wasn't sure where to start," I lied.

He narrowed his dark eyes at me. "Sure."

He dropped the conversation, never expecting me to reply to his question.

I looked up from the path, watching the men marching and stopped in my tracks. It took me by surprise just how inspiring the men were. They had just jumped from planes in the middle of the night, heavy artillery firing up at them as they descended onto occupied territory. And here they were, marching with their heads held high, ready for action, regardless of how tired they were feeling.

I quickly brought my camera to my face and began snapping pictures of the men as they marched onwards. Roe stopped and waited for me.

I turned around to face the men as they approached me, clicking the shutter as they walked by. They even began smiling for the camera as they saw me.

When I realized that we were now the last people in the group, I lowered the camera, slowly following them with Roe beside me.

"You seemed really into that just now," Roe stated.

I shrugged. "Seemed like something I needed to capture."

Roe asked, "What happens when you run out of film?"

"I'm sure that I'll be sent more," I started to say.

"I know for a while you will, but what happens if they can't deliver those canisters to you? What will you do?" he questioned.

I thought about it for a moment. "I'm not really sure. I guess I've never given it much thought. Why do you ask?"

He shook his head. "Just wondering, that's all."

I could tell that Roe had something he wanted to ask me, but was almost afraid to. I didn't understand why he was afraid to say whatever it was that was on his mind. Instead of asking him to explain himself, I just shrugged it off. I figured that if it was important to him, he'd tell me.

When we stopped in the nearby village to wait for further orders, Roe had left to tend to any who might have been hurt in the last fight. Being by myself felt awkward. I felt like I didn't belong here. The only thing that kept me comfort was taking pictures of the men as they talked to one another, comparing their spoils of war, and sharing their experiences from the jump.

It was at this very moment that I realized that I was and would always be just an observer, witnessing war from a civilian's point of view. At this very moment, I realized that I might just not make it to the end of it and all that would be left of me would be the pictures that I was taking. The camera was an extension of me...my memories in a small green combat camera and several film canisters.


	8. The Part That Hurts The Most

That night, I scribbled some of the events that happened into my journal. I hadn't been very disciplined in keeping record of the days since training, and I felt like I needed to do a better job at it.

When I heard footsteps approaching me, I glanced up to see Roe stopping and sitting next to me. I closed my journal and tossed it into my bag. "How are you holding up?"

He sighed, leaning his head against the wall of the building we were sitting by. "It's been a really long day."

"I bet. Want to talk about it?" I offered.

He shrugged. "I'm just exhausted, that's all." When I nodded in reply, but said nothing more, he asked, "What were you working on?"

I replied, "Oh, just writing in my journal."

"Yeah? What about?" he asked with genuine interest.

I smirked. "Nothing too personal. Just about how things are going since we got here. My dad told me that it helped him when he served to write things down in a journal to help cope with the situations as they happened. He thought it would come in handy for me."

"Is it?" he asked.

"What?"

"Helping?"

"Oh. Not really. But then again, there hasn't been too much that's happened to me personally to need a paper psychologist," I joked.

Roe chuckled at my bad joke which made me feel a little better about myself. "Well, it's early, yet."

I nodded. "True."

After a moment of awkward silence, I asked, "What did you mean when you asked me what I would do if I ran out of film?"

Roe looked at me confused. "When?"

"Earlier. You had asked me what I planned to do if I ever ran out of film canisters. I was just curious as to why you were wanting to know."

"Oh. Right. Well, it may not have occurred to you, but I have a feeling that I might need an extra hand on the line in the future. I didn't know if you had given any thought to becoming my unofficial nurse for a time."

I raised my eyebrow at him. "Didn't I tell you that I had a terrible bedside manner? I'm not very good at nursing people back to health."

He nodded. "I remember, but you wouldn't be nursing them back to health. Think of it as more of a 'patch them up and ship them out' kind of job."

I thought about what he was saying and before I opened my mouth to respond, he held up his hand. "You don't have to answer me right now. I know you have a lot of film in your bag, and will probably get more soon enough. I just thought it would be something you could do to help out...help me out."

I watched as he fidgeted in his spot. I replied, "I'll think about it."

He glanced over at me. "Really?"

I nodded. "Yeah, but don't get your hopes up."

He smiled. "A maybe is good enough for me."

Neither one of us seemed to be tired enough to sleep. Maybe it was the adrenaline of all the events that had happened over the last few days. Whatever the reason was, we sat together and watched the night pass us by. We talked about many things as we watched the sun start to come up, like our families, our childhood, where we grew up and how those things changed as we headed overseas to war. The more he spoke about himself, the more that I realized there was a reason he was chosen to be a medic. He had the ability to comfort and heal those around him, including myself, with just words.

It was at this particular moment, that I started to see Roe as more than just a friend that I met in training who had to examine my eyes several times. He made me feel comfortable and given where we were in the world, that was more than anyone could do for me and I didn't want that feeling to stop.

We talked until the sun came up. We watched as the beautiful sunrise wash over the fields outside of town. It was like the world was new again, but we were quickly reminded that we were not in a fairy tale book when we heard the distant gunshots. Reluctant to return to reality, we rejoined the men in the town square. It was then that we were given our new orders; head to Carentan.

Carentan was important for us, just as it was for the enemy and we knew that the enemy currently held that town. Without it, we wouldn't be able to bring in supplies and men from another beach head. So, out we went to take it over.

As Roe and I started to fall into line, a hand landed on my shoulder, causing us to stop in our tracks.

Turning around, I was face to face with Nixon. "What can I do for you, Nixon?"

He motioned behind him with his thumb. "You're coming with us."

I looked over his shoulder to see a group of officers in a Jeep waiting for us. I brought my attention back to Nixon. "I'm not going with Easy?"

"We are, but you're not going to be heading into Carentan with them. You'll go in with us," he explained.

I turned to Roe who shrugged in response before walking away from us. Glancing back to the Jeep, I sighed but followed Nixon. I felt incredibly guilty for riding in a Jeep on the way to our destination. I wanted to walk with the men. I wanted to stay by Roe, but I was still just an observer with no say. I'm sure that the officers were frustrated that they would have to keep an eye on me since I was considered a liability and civilian.

Nixon explained as we pulled out of the town, "We're going to meet them there. Once there, we'll be able to watch the assault on Carentan and when they succeed in taking over the town, we'll be able to let you rejoin them."

I nodded that I heard him, but that didn't make me any happier about the process in getting to that point. I felt like some teenager being forced to stay home and listen to the radio with their parents instead of going out with friends. How was I supposed to take pictures of the war and show the people back home how things really were, if I was stuck in a Jeep, safe and out of the way? It didn't make sense to me.

Upon arriving at Carentan and getting settled in with the officers in a cushy place overlooking the town, I started taking pictures from my spot. The town itself looked like it was damaged, but not in the sense that a war was taking place. Instead, the town just looked a little unkempt. I took pictures while our men decided how best to approach taking it over and once I saw them moving in, I couldn't click the shutter fast enough.

Within seconds of them rushing down the road, gunfire rained down upon them. I was just as shocked as anyone when that happened and almost dropped my camera. It took every ounce of me to keep from doing something stupid.

I shook as I continued taking pictures of the battle as it started. Pretty soon, I lost sight of all of our men as they had entered into town. I could hear everything as clear as day though.

"Do you see anything?" Strayer asked.

I looked over my shoulder to see Nixon peering through binoculars and Strayer squinting to try and make out anything down there.

Nixon replied, "Nothing yet."

Orders were being shouted from within the town, some in English, some in German. It was clear that there were more German forces in that town than we were originally led to believe.

When the mortars from the outside fields started dropping on the town, I kept taking pictures until I ran out. With shaky hands, I struggled to get the film replaced in my camera with each explosion that went off. I tried to keep my focus on my job and off of the men that I had started to form friendships with...and Roe. I worried what was going on down there might impact Roe in such a way that I might not see him again. It was this realization that I worried that I hadn't told him how I felt even though I worried that such talk was too soon. Maybe it wasn't, but either way, I knew that it was only because I was scared that I was panicking and thinking this way.

Once the film was secured into the camera, I continued taking pictures. When the battle was over and I took a few shots of the town, it was completely unrecognizable. Instead of being unkempt, the whole town looked like it had been through a tornado.

Strayer stood up from his spot. "Let's head on in. Carefully, now. We don't want to paint a target on our chests."

I slowly stood up on my wobbly legs and followed them in, careful as to where I stepped since many of the men on the road were ours. I felt a lump in my throat as I feared for those inside the town, praying all the way that Roe was not among them.

When I glanced up and saw the inside of town, I raised my camera to my face, taking pictures along the way, making sure that I stayed near the officers. There were several holes in the cobblestone streets from the mortars, which were still smoking. Buildings and stone walls were riddled with bullet holes. The dust from the debris and explosions hung in the air, creating almost a fog like sensation. When my viewfinder landed on a familiar frame, I lowered my camera and started to make my approach.

Covered in dust and sweat, Roe looked up at me as he finished bandaging one of the men. "Mind giving me a hand?"

I grabbed the arm of the wounded man and threw it over my shoulder, just as Roe did opposite me. "Where are we going?"

Roe nodded forward. "We've got sort of a makeshift aide station set up over there. We just need to get these guys over there for the transport back to England."

Once we arrived to the makeshift station and the wounded man was put on the floor, I looked at Roe. When our eyes met, he offered a quick smile to let me know that he was okay, busy but okay.

I struggled with my thoughts at this moment. I wanted to help him out, but I didn't know what to do, and I also had my job to do. I could tell he knew I was struggling to decide what to do with myself, so I just left to allow him to do his job without me distracting him or getting in his way.

Outside, I scanned the courtyard...what was left of it. The men were in good spirits considering all they had been through. When my eyes landed on a familiar face, I could see that something wasn't quite right.

When I approached Luz, I asked, "Hey. You okay?"

He blinked up at me. Within a moment of hesitation, he forced a smile before trying to play off whatever was bothering him. "Of course. Never better. Nothing like kicking some major Kraut ass in the morning to make you feel alive."

I saw through his act, even though some of the men passing by cheered at his comment before continuing onwards. I sat next to him in the rubble. "What happened?"

Luz sighed before quietly admitting, "I almost killed a family."

"What?" I asked, unsure if I heard him correctly.

Luz swallowed. "We were clearing the houses...throwing grenades through the windows...but..."

"But?" I pushed.

"I hesitated. There was something that didn't feel right to me...I couldn't do it," he stated. "When I kicked the door in, I saw this family huddled in the corner of the room, staring up at me. They were afraid."

I wrapped my arm around his shoulders. "You did the right thing, Luz."

He released a heavy sigh. "How many other families did we kill today?"

I couldn't answer him. I didn't know what to say. There was nothing that I could say that would make him feel better about himself and his actions on this day. I knew that he would be haunted with the image of this family, huddled in a corner, staring up at him, afraid that he'd shoot them in cold blood. It was written on his face.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. It was the only thing I could think of to say.

He just nodded, throwing his lit cigarette onto the ground in front of him.

We sat there in the rubble, just the two of us, in silence, watching as the men around us laughed and showed off their spoils of war.

I wasn't sure what Luz was thinking but I knew for certain that I was wondering how many families really were still in this town when we came in. When the mortars started to rain down upon the town, how many families were still inside their homes, bracing for the impact? I couldn't imagine how Luz felt, but I was starting to question the logic behind it all. We were supposed to be saving people, but it seemed like maybe we were just as guilty by association.

Before I could continue sorting through my thoughts, I spied one of the officer's assistants. I removed my arm from Luz's shoulders and said, "I'll be right back."

I stood up from my spot next to him and walked over to the assistant. When he saw my approach, he waited for me. "You need something?"

I nodded. "Do you think you can mail some things back to the States for me?"

He slowly nodded as if he were thinking about it. "Sure thing."

"I have some film canisters that need to go to New York. Do you think you can find a box to ship these back?" I asked.

He replied, "I think we have a couple of boxes back at Regiment. I can take them for you. Do you have an address?"

I opened my pack and removed my notebook. Quickly, I scribbled the address down and ripped the page from the binding. "Here. That's where it's going."

He took the paper from me, and the canisters, placing them in his pockets. "I'll get that out as soon as I get back."

"I appreciate it. Thanks," I said.

When I turned around to rejoin Luz, he was already gone. I scanned the courtyard for him, but saw that he had returned to the rest of the men, laughing and cracking jokes. When our eyes met, I knew that he was doing what the thought he could do to move passed today's events. I couldn't blame him.

"You say that you've got a terrible bedside manner, but you seemed to do just fine with Luz," a familiar voice stated behind me.

I smiled as I turned around to face Roe. "I'm a good listener. That's different than bandaging people up and making them feel better."

"Is it?" he questioned.

I smirked. "Should be."

"I think you don't give yourself enough credit," Roe stated honestly.

"How are you doing?" I asked him.

He replied, "As good as I can be."

I raised an eyebrow at his remark.

"I'm just exhausted," he added.

I nodded. "Understandable."

Roe asked, "Take a lot of pictures?"

I sighed. "Too many, I think. I've already asked one of the Privates to send them back to New York. Hopefully, they will send me some more film once they get my package."

"What if they don't?" Roe asked.

I shrugged. "I hadn't thought about it. I'm sure they will send me more though. It's why I'm here."

Before Roe could say anything, we heard a shout from across the courtyard, "Easy Company! Gather 'round!"

We glanced over to see that Welsh was addressing the men.

"Carentan is just as important to them as it is for us, so...we're going to be heading out to secure the outer areas. We are expecting a full counterattack, so be prepared," Welsh explained.

I looked over my shoulder to see the officers off to the side. They were discussing something, but I didn't know what. When I spied Strayer waving me over, I meandered over to him.

"Miss Finley. As you've heard from Lieutenant Welsh over there, we're going to be taking precautions by securing the area for a counterattack. You're going to be joining us," he stated.

"Again?" I blurted out. I didn't mean to say it out loud, but for some reason, it was hard to contain.

"You have a problem with that?" he questioned.

I shook my head. "Sorry. No, sir."

Strayer nodded, eyeing me carefully. "Okay then. Get your stuff. We're moving out into position."

I sighed and turned to talk to Roe. I already had all of my things with me, but I wanted to tell Roe that I'd be stuck with the officers during this process...again.

Roe looked up and met my eyes. He asked, "You okay?"

I shook my head. "I did not sign up to be dragged along by officers and put in a safe place. I mean, how am I supposed to do my job if they keep me far away from everything?"

"To keep you alive...?" Roe said with a hint of a question.

I sighed. "I know. I know. I get it, I do, but...I'm trying to show people back home what is really going on here...How can I do that when I'm always put in a place that-"

"Is keeping you alive?" Roe repeated.

I scoffed. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't complain."

Roe shook his head. "I understand you're frustrated, but I think you're overreacting. You'll have a better view from where they will be. Maybe even better pictures from where you sit high up than you would in a muddy foxhole with me."

"I'd rather be in a muddy foxhole with you," I muttered.

Roe looked slightly stunned by my words, but said nothing more on the matter.

I sighed. "I better get going. I'm sure they are getting impatient, waiting for me."

"Jane," Roe said.

"Yeah?"

"Be careful."

"You too. See you later," I replied.

As I walked away, I had to fight the urge to look over my shoulder back at Roe. I had this feeling that if I had turned to look at him one last time before following the officers to our lookout spot, I might not leave. I was feeling like each time we were separated, a piece of me was lost.


	9. The World We View

The trek to our overlook seemed to take forever. It didn't help that the man leading us seemed to be getting lost. It was Nixon who finally took control of the group and got us to where we needed to be. Once we arrived to our position, we could see everything around Carentan and the neighboring fields. We sat upon the hilltop watching as Easy, Fox, and Dog Companies marched through the fields to their positions.

As I sat there, I thought I was feeling sprinkles of rain, but it was so sporadic that I chalked it up to bugs flying about in the long grass. The moment it became more frequent, I realized that we were due for a pretty nasty storm.

Nixon handed me a spare raincoat which I took without hesitation. Instead of actually wearing the coat, I used it over me and my camera and started to take photographs of the men as they marched towards the hedgerows. I managed to snag a photo with all three Companies marching. I just hoped the photo would turn out with all the rain and the darkening light from the clouds.

As I lowered the camera from my face, I watched as some men started running while others were falling to the ground. The moment we heard the gunfire up on our hilltop, we knew that the counterattack had begun.

The rain pelted us as we sat there on our hill, huddled under our raincoats. Lightning lit the sky up while the thunder roared around us. I was thankful that the wind wasn't as bad as it could have been, but it was still early enough to change. There was nothing to do but wait...and I hated waiting.

Nixon sat next to me in the wet weeds and asked over the weather, "How are you holding up?"

I shivered as I met his gaze. "I'm okay."

He asked, "Who ever thought that this was the weather we'd get?"

I chuckled but said nothing. I could tell that Nixon was trying to make me feel more at ease while we were stuck on this hill, but I felt out of place. I knew that the officers didn't want me here, just like several of the men on the line...part of me didn't care, but there was this overwhelming feeling like maybe they were right. Perhaps I bit off more than I could chew and it was impacting all of those around me.

"You're thinking awfully hard about something," Nixon pointed out.

I glanced back at him. "I was just thinking about why I'm here."

"Yeah, why are you here?" he asked.

I replied, "I wanted to show people back home what war was really like."

"You know they film the battles to show people," he started to say.

I nodded. "I also know that they only show you half of a story. I wanted to show people that there was more to it than happy soldiers sipping coffee."

Nixon laughed. "Fair enough."

I asked, "At what point am I going to be on the lines with Easy?"

He looked at me, almost stunned by my question. "I'm not sure."

"You seemed surprised that I'd ask that," I said.

He shrugged. "Not many people would be itching to get on the front lines, in the middle of the battle for a picture."

I smirked. "When you word it like that..."

"Don't rush it. Rushing gets you killed. Just be patient and be thankful you're up this high. You'll be down there with them soon enough. We don't want to find out that we killed a field photographer for...What paper did you say you worked for?" he asked.

"The Times," I answered.

"Right. If you got killed, the headlines would probably be unfavorable for us because we'd be blamed in your death," Nixon stated.

I thought about what he was saying. It made sense. They were being cautious to protect themselves...not just me. It wasn't until this conversation with Nixon that I fully understood why they were doing what they were doing, and I felt incredibly selfish for trying to get on the front lines.

Nixon asked, "Why did you decide to become a field photographer anyways? You could have become a nurse or something a little more safe."

I was reminded of Roe when he asked that question. "I've got terrible people skills to be a nurse."

Nixon laughed. "I guess that is a required skill to have when dealing with wounded."

I smiled at him, thankful that he got my joke. "Seriously though, my father was hurt in a factory and I guess I have this fear of the same thing happening to me. I'm the only one who can provide for my family now, and it seemed like the right thing to do at the time."

"And now?"

"Now...well. I'm still here," I replied with a sigh.

"Aren't we all?" Nixon asked in agreement.

The storm had lifted during the early morning hours. The smell of the wet grass was heavenly to wake up to, but when I remembered where I was, I was hit with a twinge of anxiety.

I sat up and looked over at the officers. They were looking down the hill at the lines, talking amongst themselves. They didn't seem concerned yet, so I had assumed that the battle hadn't started yet.

I saw a canteen lowered down to me. Glancing up, I met the smiling eyes of Nixon. I took his canteen from his out stretched arm. "Thanks."

He sat next to me as I took a big swig. The moment the liquid hit my tongue, I had no choice but to choke down the alcohol that was burning my throat. I coughed loudly a few times, which caused the other officers to glance over at us. With a raspy voice, I squawked, "Went down the wrong pipe."

When the officers turned back to whatever it was they were doing before my near choking experience, I asked, "How about some water?"

Nixon smirked. "Sorry. I thought that was my water." He reached into his bag and produced another canteen. After smelling and confirming that it was water, he handed it to me. "Water."

"Thanks." I took more than just a swig this time as I tried to soothe my raw throat from the Vat 69 that was in the last canteen. I handed it back to him. "What happens when you run out?"

I chose my words carefully because I didn't want him to get into trouble on account of me. He probably didn't mean to hand me his stash, but that didn't stop the accident from happening.

He replied, "I have ways."

I rolled my eyes at him. "I'm sure you do."

Nixon never had a chance to retort because the ground shook beneath us followed by the echoes of explosions from below.

All the officers, including Nixon had lowered themselves to the ground and pulled out their binoculars to watch the scene below unfold. I pulled out my camera and started to take pictures of the attack. There wasn't much to see, at least there wasn't until the tanks started to level the hedgerows our men were occupying.

It was only after a few minutes did we see an entire Company retreat.

Nixon swore under his breath. "There goes our left flank."

It didn't dawn on me until after the men were out of harms way that I had stopped taking pictures. I was too focused on the terrible fact that Easy Company was getting left behind. They weren't falling back when everyone else was. I could feel myself shaking with fear, just thinking about how they might not make it out of this one.

When one of the other officers announced, "Here comes the Armored!"

Nixon elbowed me. "Cavalry's here. You can rest easy now."

Even seeing the Armored Division swoop in to help them out, it didn't make me relax in the slightest. I watched from above as they were able to push the enemy back, but I worried what it was like for the men down in the hedgerows while the trees were being blown up all around them.

When it was all over, I sat up next to Nixon. Nixon muttered, "Here we go..."

I turned to see one of the commanding officers from the unit who retreated during the attack slowly making his approach. The moment Strayer's eyes landed on the man, you could tell that there was going to be hell to pay.

"What the hell do you think you were doing, soldier? Who gave the order to retreat?" Strayer began yelling at the man.

I looked at Nixon who just motioned for me to follow him. I asked as we were getting further from the argument, "Where are we going?"

"I figured we could head down there and lend a hand," Nixon stated as we began the trek down the hill towards the line.

As we got further from our overlook, the less we could hear Strayer yelling at the men. Once completely out of earshot, Nixon released a chuckle. "You know, you think he was taking it personally, what with being up above the battle and all - safe and out of the way."

I smiled, but didn't say anything. I didn't know him or Strayer all that well to be giving my two cents worth, even if it was all in fun. When we arrived to the hedgerow, my smirk had completely disappeared from my face. Trees were obliterated. The ground was smoking from the impact of the rounds shot out by the tanks. Men were groaning in pain, while some smoked cigarettes and packed up their things in preparation of moving onwards.

Nixon waved across the field to Winters and Speirs. My eyes fell upon Roe who was busy at work, bandaging up a fellow soldier who got caught in the crossfire. Instead of following Nixon, I headed over to Roe. He never saw my approach. "Hey."

He quickly glanced up at me, before returning to the task at hand. "Hey yourself."

"That was a hell of a battle from up there...and judging by the looks of things down here, I can't even believe that you guys stuck around," I said. It was after I spoke that I realized that I sounded like a moron. I suddenly wished I could take back my words.

Roe nodded. "Yeah. Hell of a fight. Mind giving me a hand with this?"

I bent down next to him and waited for instructions. He handed me the wrappings he was using to secure the bandage to the wounded man's leg. I started to wrap it around until I ran out. Roe removed his hand from within the wrappings and started tying it up.

"Thanks."

"Welcome..." I muttered. I felt awkward. He was so focused in what he was doing, that I probably shouldn't be taking it personally, but there was a part of me that felt like he was angry with me for being up on top of the hill. Maybe I was reading too much into this.

Roe looked over his right shoulder and shouted to two men standing about. "Hey! He's ready to go!"

The men meandered over, lifting the wounded man up, and carried him away. Roe stood up, wiping his hands on his thighs to remove what blood was lingering behind. I asked, "Are you okay?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Another day." He shrugged at me.

I glanced down at my feet and when I raised my head, he had walked away from me to continue checking other men. I stood there watching him leave. It was after he began working on another wounded soldier that I pulled my camera out and started taking pictures of the hedgerow and the damage the tanks had caused. I took pictures of the men after the battle, some of whom were excited to still be alive, while others were arguing over who killed more Germans.

I shifted my attention back to Roe as he treated men. I began taking numerous pictures of him as he worked. It was at this moment, I saw how much he cared for those around him. It was almost as if he felt their pain as he touched them. I had never in my life witnessed love of another human life until I watched Roe through my viewfinder.

My camera clicked, letting me know that I had used my film up and that I would need to replace the spent roll within it. I knelt down and began digging through my pack for an unused canister. I counted how many I had. There were three unused canisters left. I hoped that my boss back in New York would keep true to his word and send me more as soon as possible. I was beginning to feel that the most important parts of my mission here was coming up and I didn't want to miss anything.

The days after that battle in the hedgerow, we waited for orders on where to go. When we were told of a possible outpost within nearby forestry, a small band of soldiers were ordered to take it out while the rest of Easy Company, myself included, waited outside as reinforcements should they need it.

The forest itself was quiet. There was the occasional sound of birds singing and squirrels at play, but for a forest, there wasn't much happening in way of sounds. I whispered to Roe who sat next to me on the ground, "How long do you think we'll be waiting?"

Roe shrugged. "As long as it takes, I suspect."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Are you sure you're okay?"

He met my eyes with his dark ones. "Fine. Why do you keep asking me that?"

"Because you've been really distant lately...at least with me. Did I do something wrong?" I asked.

He shook his head, but I could tell he was afraid to tell me something. Maybe he didn't want to tell me in front of the men. I let loose a sigh and nodded, dropping the questions. This was the reason that I didn't want to assume there was anything between us. He was giving me a cold shoulder, and I didn't understand why. Sometimes, I felt like the men were more hormonal that me at times.

Roe whispered, "It's just been a rough few days."

"I get that, I do. But you have to talk to me..."

He looked at me again, so I added, "Well, you don't have to talk to me, but it'd be nice if you did talk to me."

He smiled. "Some of the men-"

"They need a medic! Roe! Go! Now!" Winters shouted at him.

Roe didn't hesitate. He jumped to his feet and took off. It happened so fast that I blinked and he was gone.

The moment the order for a medic had come to us, the men started muttering amongst themselves about who might have been the unfortunate one to get hit. They began speculating how badly it was.

The chatter ceased the moment a Private from Colonel Sink's men approached Winters and said, "You're pulling out. You're being taken off the line."

Winters glared at the kid in disbelief. He nodded and replied, "Understood." He sighed and ordered a couple of men to follow him as he headed into the woods to tell the rest of the men that they were moving out.

Had that order come a couple minutes sooner, I wondered if the wounded man that Roe was attending to now would be fine...quite possibly even alive if he were dead. I wondered how hard this would hit Roe.

We sat there in silence for the next few minutes until Winters came back with a few more men than he had left with. He ordered everyone to start heading back. I glanced over my shoulder into the woods behind us and hoped to spy Roe as we left.


	10. Sea Of Faces

Cold enveloped me. Smoke invaded my lungs, making it harder to breathe. The world around me was shaking, sending vibrations throughout my body. I forced my eyes open only to see planes overhead in the dark sky. Sporadic gunfire could be heard in the distance. I blinked a few times, trying to remember where I was. Then I had a sinking feeling in my stomach.

Bolting upright, I screamed, "Renee!"

I could see the cathedral a few meters before me. I scrambled to my feet, ignoring the pain that was sent screaming down my body, and ran towards the burning entrance. The moment I reached the steps, I shouted again, "Renee!"

I was about to rush inside, but I froze when I heard a voice behind me. "Halt!"

My breath hitched as I slowly turned around. Standing behind me was a group of armed German forces staring at me. I quickly counted them. There were six. Too many to outrun.

The man who stood in front of the rest, took another step forward, motioned for me to approach him. "Come here."

I hesitated. I wasn't sure what to do. I feared that if I didn't obey, they'd shoot me on site. If I obeyed, what would make me think they'd do anything differently?

The man motioned for me again. "Come here."

When I stared at him again, I could see the men with the guns tightening their hold and starting to raise the guns up towards me. I took a cautious step forward.

"Are you hurt?" the man asked. I furrowed my brow at him. I didn't understand why it mattered to him if I was hurt or not. During my thinking, he demanded, "Answer me."

I shook my head.

Movement to my left caught my attention. When I turned to see who it was coming up next to me, I felt searing pain across my temple and the world faded to black once again.

My head throbbed as I started to come to. It didn't help that I was being jostled around either. I blinked myself awake and started to slowly sit up. I could hear the truck shifting gears and knew that I had been taken prisoner. I sat upright, still holding my pounding head. I felt the bruise and the small cut from the hit that I took back in Bastogne.

"How are you feeling?" a familiar voice asked.

I glanced up and met the eyes of Fritz. "I've been better."

"You've got a nasty bump there," he replied, pointing to my head, like I didn't already know.

I ignored the comment and asked, "What's happening? Where are you taking me?"

"You have to believe me when I tell you that you're going to be all right," he stated. He was so confident in his statement, I wanted to believe him. He seemed pretty convincing.

"Why are you doing this?" I asked.

"I'm not doing anything. This isn't my choice. I tried to let you go back with your men," Fritz stated. "Fate had something else in mind."

I murmured, "I doubt 'fate' had anything to do with it."

I quickly glanced about the back of the truck. I sat with Fritz and four of the armed men I saw outside the cathedral. I knew the other two, including the one who spoke to me before, were up front.

"Jane, believe me. You're going to be okay. You're not in any danger," Fritz said again, trying to reassure me.

I refused to speak anymore to him. I reached for my bag, but realized it was missing. One of the men must have it.

In this moment, I began to worry what was to become of me. I was so far from home, so far from the men of Easy, I feared that I would become just another lost soul in a sea of faces. I couldn't remember much about what I was told before I came out to Europe about the Germans, and I especially couldn't remember about what was said other than they were the enemy when we got here, so for me to determine how things were going to go was pointless.

I suddenly felt a pang of guilt for not allowing Anna to work with me to help me remember what I couldn't. Maybe if I had, I wouldn't be in the back of this truck going to God knows where. Maybe I'd be back on the line with Easy.

The thought of Anna made me remember when the barrage at Bastogne happened. She was running and a shell blew her through a wall. I remembered she was okay, but I don't know if she ever fully escaped.

I started crying immediately when I recalled Renee standing in the foyer of the cathedral, shuffling the wounded out. Our eyes had locked. After that, I don't remember much. I feared that she was dead, especially after watching the flames in the foyer when I had run back there. I prayed that I was wrong, that she had escaped before the fire. The worst part was not knowing for certain.

When the truck started to slow down, I peered out the back of the truck, hoping to see anything that might tell me where we were. All I could see was snow. Lots of snow and trees. There were a few German troopers walking about as well, but nothing to identify a location. Until I stepped outside of the truck, I wouldn't know if I was in a town or camp.

I could hear shouts from around the truck. Fritz looked at me and said once more, "You're going to be okay. I promise."

I was about to retort when the men from the front of the truck stood at the back, ordering everyone out. The armed men behind me in the truck nudged me, pushing me to my feet and forcing me to jump out of the truck.

Once I landed on my feet, I felt hands wrap around my arms. Two of the armed men were holding me still. I wasn't about to try and flee. That would be suicide given all of the enemy troopers around me carrying weapons.

My eyes landed on the obvious leader of the group. He had my bag slung over his shoulder. He cleared his throat before speaking. "Come with me. We'll get you someplace warm to sleep."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Why? Aren't I your prisoner?"

"Yes, but I'm hoping that by treating you with respect, you'll return the gesture when the time comes," he replied, motioning me to follow. When we walked around towards the front of the truck, my eyes landed on a small town encircled by forest. There was no saying where I was.

I was released by my guards, but was still followed closely by them. I walked slightly behind the leader. "What do you want from me?"

"We'll have plenty of time to talk later. For now, I think you're tired, yes? After some time to rest and eat, we'll talk," he stated with a smile. I frowned.

There was something about the way they were treating me that made me realize that they were up to something. I couldn't place my finger on what, but I was aware of how dangerous this situation was becoming. If they were hoping to get vital information from me regarding...well, pretty much anything that I couldn't remember, then I was as good as dead. I was mentally preparing myself for the inevitable, preparing myself for the deadly truth that I wasn't going to survive, and I would never see Roe or any of the others again.

We stopped in front of a building and the leader opened the front door, motioning me to walk in first. I hesitated and he shrugged his shoulders, stepping over the threshold first. I was reluctant, but followed anyways. Once inside the warm house, I quickly glanced about. The quaint house was filled with lots of ornate furniture and beautiful paintings that I had never seen before.

"Would you like something to drink?" the leader asked as he motioned towards the kitchen. I shook my head, even though my throat was dry and tasted like smoke. He must have seen through my lie and handed me a glass of water anyways. "Drink. You'll feel better."

I took the crystal glass from his hand. "Nice things for such a small and poor village."

He chuckled. "These things don't belong to the locals. Our officers prefer items of luxury, so we've brought our things to make our stay more enjoyable."

"And where is that, exactly?" I pondered out loud.

He smirked at my question. "Nowhere that is of concern to you right now." He motioned for me to sit down, and I had no choice but to oblige.

Once I was sitting, he sat across from me. He took my bag off his shoulder and sat it down on the table beside him. My eyes were fixed on it, wondering if everything was still inside.

"You're a photographer," he spoke. It wasn't a question, but a fact. He had riled through my things and either deduced that this was fact, or he read my journal. Either way, I waited for him to continue.

"You see, I think we could use you," he said, sipping from his glass. "We Germans have been given quite the bad rap since this war started. I want you to make it right."

"What are you talking about?" I questioned. He wasn't making sense to me.

"In exchange for you taking pictures of life from our point of view, we will treat you as a guest, food, water, bed-"

"Guards?" I asked, knowing the answer.

"I will have two following you. Fritz and one more," he stated. "Fritz is someone you've become friends with, it seems."

"I don't know about that," I muttered.

The man smiled. "Come now. He's been honest with you this whole time. He did want to leave you behind for your men to find you."

"Then why didn't you?" I asked.

He sighed. "I'll be honest. Your photography skills were unknown to me until the ride over here. We were originally going to take you prisoner and demand information regarding your men and their whereabouts, but as some of your journal entries have stated, and from Fritz's own confessions, you don't remember anything."

"So what's the point? Why keep me here if you have no need for me?" I asked.

The man sipped his water again before stating, "Unfortunately, my superior is expecting results. Let me be frank with you, Jane. The men here right now, will not harm you in anyway. We're not like the rest of them. However, if you refuse to help us or answer any questions we might have, they will send someone worse."

"Worse?" I interrupted.

"Worse," he repeated solemnly. "Your life would be in grave danger, should they send someone else here to get what they want from you. I'd personally like very much that that not happen, but it all depends on you."

"What use will I be for you if I can't remember anything? You've read my journal. You know that I have no memory of anything," I pointed out.

He stood up from his chair, walking over to refill his water. "You don't really have much choice, Jane. I'm sorry, but you will have to cooperate eventually, whether with me or with someone-"

"Worse," I recalled. "Yeah, I got that."

The man set his glass down and said, "With that out of the way, we'll show you to your room. Come first light, we will have another chat."

I stood up, leaving my water glass behind untouched, and followed them up the stairs of this house to the place that would become my prison.


	11. So Cold

The next morning, I woke to the sound of heavy footsteps approaching my door. I bolted upright and sat on the edge of the bed, waiting for whoever was outside to enter. They never did. I could see the shadows of someone standing there, but was surprised that they hadn't entered.

I stood up from the bed, fixing my appearance slightly, and approached the door. I turned the handle and found it unlocked. I slowly opened the door, peering outside to see Fritz and an older man standing in the hallway.

Fritz offered a smile, which I ignored. He asked, "How did you rest?"

"Fine, thanks," I muttered, trying to keep from looking at him. I was mad at him. I felt betrayed and a small part of me thought I was being unfair to him. His story was confirmed by the leader of this little outpost village. I just couldn't get past it, for whatever reason.

The older man stood before me, uniform barely fitting anymore, wrinkles covering his tired face heavily, and he had numerous medals overlapping one another on the left side of his coat. The medals were so many and so heavy, they were bringing his jacket down on the left. It made him look uneven, or hunchbacked, even.

His eyes were filled with sadness when he looked at me. I had never seen such a man with so much emotion, mostly sad and loneliness, fill his face. There was a story behind that gaze, and I wondered if I'd even find out what it was.

Fritz cleared his throat. "Captain Utzig is expecting you for breakfast downstairs."

I looked over at Fritz. "And if I refuse?"

"I wouldn't recommend that," he stated, motioning me to head down the stairs.

I sighed and followed the orders given.

Once we were downstairs, I spied several other German troopers stationed by doors, all at attention, carrying weapons. None of them looked at me or acknowledged my presence.

The moment I was off the last step, I heard a familiar voice calling for my attention. "Ah! There you are. Please, join me."

I glanced over my right shoulder to see Utzig standing at the same desk he was when I last saw him. I crossed the threshold of the room and stood before the desk. He motioned for me to sit, which I did reluctantly.

He sat down in his chair and motioned to the scones in front of him. "Please, help yourself."

I shook my head. "No thanks."

"Suit yourself then," he replied back, with a curt tone. I knew that I was probably making things worse for myself by behaving in such a way, but I wasn't willing to trust anything he was offering. It almost felt like anything he wanted to give me had some kind of strings attached to it. The less I could take from him, the better I'd be...at least, that's what I was thinking.

He riled through some papers, signing off on some before speaking. "I trust you slept well?"

I studied his movements as I responded, "Fine, thanks."

He glanced up briefly before continuing with his work. "You can have this back."

He reached down beside him and revealed my pack. He placed it in front of me on the desk. When I picked it up, it felt lighter. I opened the flap to see a lot of items missing, including my journal. "Where's the rest of my stuff?"

"Oh, I'll be holding onto that for a while yet," he explained, still working on paperwork.

"For what purpose?" I questioned. It wasn't like it was filled with top secret information. In fact, it was filled with ramblings from a woman who didn't have a clue in the world where she was, let alone who she was. It didn't seem like there was anything inside that would be worth noting on his part.

He cleared his throat before setting his pen down to give me his full attention. "We need to go through it more thoroughly and find information that is of use to us."

"You've already read through it. You've already told me that it was filled with nothing," I pointed out.

"Yes, I did. And while that may still be true, I have my orders," he stated, picking up his pen and continuing with his work.

"Will you give it back?" I asked.

"Eventually."

"So what is it that you want from me?" I asked.

He replied, "We've provided you with several more film canisters and your camera. You're going to take pictures of the men around here, the things that go on, and report back to me every night."

"That's it? You want me to take pictures of your men? For what purpose?" I asked.

"We've already discussed this, but I suppose I can 'jog' your memory," he said with a heavy and annoyed sigh. Looking up at me, he crossed his hands on his desk. "We want the world to know that we aren't all evil, like your papers state we are. We are quite normal. We have tea like any other civilized culture. We read, we pray, we eat. We follow orders because that's what we are made to do. It's just time someone out there showed our story as unbiased as they do your men."

I inhaled deeply before asking, "And what are you going to do with the film once I've taken the photos you want?"

"Develop them. We've already started working on the film you've used in hopes that it will give us something we want. Maybe if you do a good job and you behave, we will show you the photos. They might help with your memory. Until then, you will be expected to take as many pictures as possible throughout the day," he stated.

"Seems like a waste of film," I replied. "You want me to use a whole canister every day?"

"You might think it a waste, Ms. Finley, but I assure you, it's better than the alternative."

"And what's that?" I pondered.

Utzig started to show signs of sheer annoyance at this point. I could tell that I was becoming close to the edge of his good side and I had to watch myself before he reacted in a negative way. He said, "I am trying my best to give you a chance to do the right thing without having to use drastic measures. If you were a man, we'd have started torture on you the moment you stepped foot into this town. I'd much rather not see that happen. The more you cooperate, the easier it will be for everyone, especially you. Now, if you fail to do as you're told, and you find that you'd much rather be treated as the prisoner you are, we can accommodate you and bring in someone much less forgiving than me. Personally, I'd hate to see that happen. So please, for your sake, just do as I ask. Take the damn pictures."

I swallowed. This was the first time since I've met him that he actually scared me. I believed him when he said that he'd torture me and bring in someone much less obliging than him. What I didn't understand was why he was so desperate for his side of the story to be out there. There had to be something he wasn't telling me.

I took my pack and slung it over my shoulder. As I stood up, Utzig added, "I will see you tonight. Don't disappoint me, Jane. It would be a tragic mistake on your part."

I stared at him one last time, watching him work on paperwork before turning back to my escorts who led me to the cold world outside.


	12. The Outside

Outside in the cold, I released a heavy sigh. Fritz said, "Well, that wasn't so bad, was it?"

I turned to face him, slightly glaring at him for his remark. I knew by the way he said it that he was trying to lighten the intense mood that had fallen over me, but I didn't appreciate it. I was still trying to work things out in my mind; I certainly didn't need sarcasm on my plate too.

Fritz suggested, "Why don't we start on the Eastern end of town? There are a lot of men over there with interesting stories."

"I'm not writing an article. I'm taking pictures. I couldn't give a damn about their stories," I snapped.

Fritz sighed. "Look, I know you're mad at me. I understand, but I'm trying to help you here. I don't want to see you carted off like so many others and tortured."

"How many others?" I asked. I could see it in his eyes that there was indeed something more going on here.

He hesitated but eventually he whispered, "There've been many. Most of the people in this town, in fact. Others from outside this town running to family to flee... women, children, all of them."

"Where are they taken?" I asked.

Fritz shook his head. "I don't know. Different places. Sometimes families are separated before they are carted off."

Judging by the look on his face, I could see how much he hated what had happened to those families. I asked, "Is this why you tried to run away?"

His eyes darted around us, hoping no one was within ear shot. "Ssh! Do you want me to get shot?"

I furrowed my brow at him. Of course I didn't want him to get shot...not really. He sighed and said, "Yes. That's partly why I...took a long walk."

I rubbed my forehead before saying, "I'm sorry. I didn't know."

He nodded. "It's okay, but please...just...for me... don't make any mistakes that might have you going to wherever the Hell those people were taken. They never come back."

"Are you saying that some do?" I questioned.

He nodded slightly. "Sometimes a woman or two show up that was carted off, but they are only ever here for a day or two before being sent back."

"Why would they bring women back here?" I asked. I felt stupid the moment the question left my mouth. It was almost as if my brain had suddenly connected the dots once the question was said.

Fritz shrugged. "You know how lonely it can be on the lines; how lonely men are without the comfort of a woman's embrace."

Internally, I chuckled at his naivety. The women weren't just 'holding' the men. I wondered if I'd ever see any of these women during my stay here, however long that was to be. I began to fully understand where this was going and how serious the situation that Fritz, and Utzig, were trying to prevent me from experiencing. At this moment in time, the only thing that would potentially save me was my camera and the film they had given me.

I pulled out my camera, took a picture of Fritz to make sure there was film loaded, and asked, "So...you said start in the Eastern part?"

Fritz had a wave of relief wash over him as he nodded, smiling at me. "Yeah. This way."

I followed Fritz through the village, with our old gimpy friend following behind.

I was continued walking towards the far end of the village, I looked behind me to the old soldier who followed us. I turned my attention to Fritz. "What's his story?"

Fritz looked at me, somewhat surprised that I was suddenly interested in making conversation. He glanced over his shoulder to see the older man behind us before saying, "Oh, Styne. He's a good man."

I asked, "How old is he?"

"Old enough."

"I'm guessing he's served his whole life?" I asked.

Fritz nodded. "Yeah. Since he was about twelve."

"Twelve?" I questioned. I couldn't imagine being enlisted in the military at such a young age. When I was twelve, I was busy with school and chores. It was amazing to me to think of living this kind of life and never knowing anything else. It explained all of his medals on his chest in which he wore proudly.

Fritz stated, "He's one of the best people here. Always quiet, unless he has something important to say. So, if you ever have the privilege to hear his voice, take his words seriously. He's a wise man."

I nodded as I thought about him. There was a sad story behind that wrinkled face and sad eyes. I wondered if I'd ever hear about it.

We reached the far end of the village and I found myself drawn to the architecture of the buildings. I started taking pictures of them and had to stop after the first few. I knew that Captain Utzig would not be happy with me should he develop the film to only find photo after photo of buildings instead of his men. I sighed, lowering the camera from my face. I glanced about the area but didn't see many men about, and certainly no one worthy of being photographed.

Fritz asked, "What are you waiting for?"

"People. Inspiration. It's not like I want to just waste the film just so that I can hand over a full canister to Utzig. Where is everyone?" I asked.

Fritz looked at his watch. "Some are probably eating, others are probably in bed."

"Bed? Still?" I asked.

He smirked. "I doubt they're sleeping."

I furrowed my brow at him. It was a confusing statement to hear, but I remembered him saying something earlier about how women were brought in to 'entertain' the men. Maybe this is what he was talking about.

Fritz motioned to a bench nearby. "Maybe we should sit for a while until people start waking up. You can have some breakfast while we wait."

I replied, "I didn't bring anything with me."

"That's okay. I did," he said. "Old habit to carry something with me at all times, just in case I get separated."

Or go AWOL, I thought to myself. We sat down and he handed me a small bun to eat. It was rock hard and cold, but it was food. I nibbled at pieces I ripped away from it.

As I sat there chewing, Styne stood a few feet away from us, slightly hunched over on his rifle. I took this moment to capture his likeness. The way he was standing, the look on his face...it showed me someone who was desperate for this war to be over so that he could go home. He looked as though he was ready for a long rest from service. I took my camera and took a couple of pictures of him. When he noticed that I was taking pictures of him, he stood straighter - as straight as he could manage - and I took another one to make him feel better. I wanted to get a closer image of his face, but Fritz spoke, breaking my concentration.

"Looks like they are waking."

I looked around to see a few men emerging from the houses. They were dressed in their uniforms which looked fresh and new. Within a few seconds of them exiting the house, a couple of women followed behind them.

I couldn't help but stare at them. They were ragged and looked broken. I took a few pictures of them. It was awkward to see men who were so clean and properly dressed standing next to women who had clearly been abused and taken advantage of. They were so dirty that I was surprised that these men would even touch them.

Another thing I had noticed about these women were how skinny they were. It looked as though they hadn't eaten in weeks, perhaps even longer. Their clothes barely fit their frames. I felt so sorry for them. I was positive in my thinking that had I seen them before the war started, those women would have been absolutely stunning - full frame with meat on their bones, hair and make up done, smiles on their faces - but that was a long time ago.

With each picture that I took of them, I began to wonder if Utzig was going to be mad at me for focusing more of my attention of the women and their officers than Utzig's men overall. He wanted me to capture images that would show the world that they aren't so different than any of us, but it was hard to ignore this moment. It was something that may never be shown to the world, and I knew that these pictures had a high possibility of being burned after being developed, but I didn't care. I felt the need and responsibility to share these women's story, even if it ended up becoming a sad memory.

Fritz asked, "Are you ready to move on?"

I lowered the camera from my face and watched as the women were ushered towards the train car. As they began to pass by us, I extended my hand to the woman closest to me. She quickly glanced down to my hand to see the bun I was offering to her and her friend.

In a moment's hesitation, she glanced at the officers escorting her, then back to my hand. She snatched the bun and hid it in her dress as she continued to follow behind them.

Fritz exhaled loudly. "Shouldn't have done that."

"I wasn't going to eat any more of it. They clearly needed it more than me," I replied.

"And if they are discovered with it, they could be severely punished or killed," Fritz pointed out.

I whirled my head over to him. "They'd kill those women for having food that I gave them?"

"You forget that they are prisoners. They aren't allowed anything unless one of the officers are ordered to give it. I wouldn't make a habit of providing them with food anymore," Fritz warned.

I instantly felt responsible for the possible demise of those women. I prayed that they wouldn't be caught with the bun because then their blood would be on my hands which is ironic given how Utzig swears they are not different from any of us on the Allied side, but hearing about this made me realize that what he was saying all this time was a dark lie.


	13. Just A Feeling

That evening, I was brought back into Utzig's office. The soldiers that stood close by approached me. Without saying a word or even waiting on orders from Utzig, who sat at his desk doing what looked like busy work, took my camera and other belongings off of me. They approached Utzig and set my things on his desk before returning to their post in the corners of the room.

Utzig didn't look up from his papers. "How did your first day go?"

I eyed the men in the corners carefully. "Fine."

"What inspired you today?"

"What?" I asked. The question confused me.

Utzig finally glanced up at me. "What inspired your photos?"

I couldn't believe that he was asking me about inspiration. Honestly, I didn't have any. It was pretty much a 'take pictures or else' kind of situation. I knew that he wasn't looking for that kind of answer, so I replied, "Life."

He smiled. "Life?"

I nodded. "There's a lot of it here."

"How do you mean?" he questioned, setting his pen down. I suddenly had his full attention, and I wasn't sure that was a good thing.

I could tell that he was testing me. He wanted to see if I was truly taking him seriously, his threats, his demands. I knew I had to tread carefully. "Your men are very..."

I could see Fritz out of the corner of my eye silently pleading for me to be careful where I was taking this.

"Optimistic," I finished. I knew that wasn't the word that I wanted to say, but I could see Fritz relax a little, so maybe Utzig won't keep pushing me to explain.

"Optimistic?"

I nodded, silently praying that he would just move on already.

He raised an eyebrow at me, glanced between me and Fritz before searching through my things. He removed my camera and asked, "So, I suspect that you used all of the film today since you saw so much...optimism?"

I swallowed. I suddenly couldn't remember if I had used all the film or not. Utzig saw my hesitation.

"Well? Did you use the entire roll?" he demanded.

I tried to remember if the camera had clicked and if I had rewound the film. As I was lost in memory of the days events, Fritz cleared his throat. "Yes sir. She did. I have the roll right here."

Utzig smiled as he held out a flat palm. "Thank you. I'll take that."

Fritz handed over the film to his commanding officer. Utzig snapped his fingers and a new soldier had appeared. The new man was holding a folder under his right arm. He saluted, handed off the folder, took the spent film, and left without speaking a word.

Utzig motioned for me to approach his desk. I stood before him and waited uncomfortably. I wasn't sure what was in the folder, but I had a sinking feeling in my stomach that it wasn't going to be good.

He casually opened the folder and inside I could see photos, but I couldn't make them out as to what they were. That is, until he picked one up, turned it around, and tossed it onto my end of the desk for me to see. He asked, "Mind explaining what that is?"

The photograph before me was a picture of a rather unhappy Sobel glaring at me, while the rest of Easy Company smiled on. I stared at the black and white photo. "I don't know."

"You don't know?" he repeated.

I shook my head. "No. I don't know what this is."

"Those are your men, are they not?" he asked.

I nodded. "Yes."

"Did you take this photo?" he questioned, his tone getting more sharp with each word.

I shook my head with a little bit of a shrug. "I don't know. I mean- I don't remember taking it. I'm sure that I did but-"

He cut me off. "It came from the film that was in your bag, so of course you took it. Now, explain to me what is going on here."

I let out a heavy and defeated sigh. I glanced over at Fritz, worried about what might happen if I couldn't answer the question.

Utzig saw the glance and said, "He won't be able to help you this time. I'm waiting."

I swallowed. "It's...They're training."

"Why are they smiling? Are they always this cheerful when training?" he mocked me in his question.

I shook my head. "No, but most of the time, when someone sees a camera, people tend to smile."

I hoped that he wouldn't see through my lies. I had no idea what was going on, hell, I didn't remember taking the picture. I couldn't even begin to point out half of the men and name them. I was lucky that I could remember Sobel's name, even if I didn't want to.

Utzig tossed another picture towards me. "What about this one? Who's he?"

The picture before me was that of a familiar face. Eugene. A wave of emotions and images rushed through my being.

Given my expression, Utzig said, "Clearly you know this man."

I nodded. "He's a friend."

I wanted to be as generic as I possibly could. I didn't want them knowing anything about him. Not if I could help it.

"What's his name?"

"Why do you need to know?" I asked.

Utzig glared at me. "Answer the question."

"Not until you tell me why you need to know his name."

"You don't want to push me, Jane. I can find out one way or another, but let's make this easier on both of us, shall we? His name. Now."

I clenched my teeth. "Roe."

"What's his rank?"

"He's our medic."

Utzig nodded. "Was he there at Bastogne with you?"

I saw a window of opportunity and I wasn't about to waste it. "Yes. He was."

"Did he make it out?"

"I doubt it."

Utzig nodded and picked up the picture of Roe. He glanced over it one more time before handing it back to me. "For keepsakes."

I snatched the photo from his grasp and held onto it tightly. I didn't look at it again because I was afraid I might give myself up.

He tossed another photo in front of me. "Explain."

I looked at each photograph that he tossed on the desk. Some were easier to explain than others. I had lied about the majority of them, but there were some that I just couldn't lie about without getting caught. As far as I knew, there wasn't anything in those photos or what I said about them that would make me a traitor. At least, I was hoping that was the case.

Utzig stated," You may go to bed now, Jane. I'll see you in the morning with a new canister of film."

I turned and followed Fritz and Styne up the stairs to my room.

Once the door closed behind me, I sat on the edge of the rickety bed and looked down at the photo in my hands. Staring back at me were the kind eyes of Roe. I traced the outline of his jaw. I recalled the moment the picture was taken almost like it was yesterday.

He had overheard that Sobel was mad at me for taking pictures of them training on Currahee and wanted to get rid of me or smash my camera. Knowing Sobel, it was probably going to be both. Eugene had managed to find me first and hide me away in his secret place, the place he would go to pray or reflect on why he was even there. It was the first time that he had shared something so personal with me and I promised to never share it with anyone.

His secret place would be the meeting spot for a lot of our meet ups. We would spend any free time he had there, talking about life back home, what we were doing before the war started, and what we hoped our future would be like when it was all over. It was there that we shared a lot of personal things about one another and I remembered feeling like there was a special bond between us. A bond that was unexplainable but it was comfortable.

I took the picture right before he took me to see the ravine with the river. The memories of that day came rushing back, and I held onto the picture and the feeling of his kiss the rest of the night.


	14. Running Out Of Time

I woke to the warmth of the sun hitting my face through the window. I sat up, still holding the photo of Roe. I took one last look at it before folding it up and placing it inside my coat pocket next to my breast. I didn't want to leave it behind for someone to take or destroy. It would never leave me as long as I could help it.

I stood up, straightening my coat as I headed for the door. When I opened the door, I was greeted by the familiar faces of Fritz and Styne who both smiled warmly at me.

"Ready for another day?" Fritz asked.

I shrugged. "Like I have much choice."

He motioned for me to walk in front of him as we headed down the stairs. Once again, the moment my foot came off the last step, I could hear Utzig call out to me. I turned and headed towards his desk.

Utzig motioned to my camera and the film that sat next to it. "Don't disappoint me."

I picked up the items and started to load the camera with the fresh film. As I was working on that, I happened to glance at his desk. There were new pictures sitting before him. I froze.

He glanced up at me to see that I was staring down at the photos. He asked, "See something familiar?"

I shook my head and he turned the pictures around so that I could see them better.

They were dark. Clearly taken in the middle of the night, but you could make out white spots in the background as well as some white streaks in the sky. It finally dawned on me what I was looking at. I had taken pictures of D-Day from the boat that held the officers. I wasn't even sure any of them would turn out, but I distinctly remembered taking these photos.

Utzig noticed that I had a moment of clarity on my face. "Mind explaining to me what this is?"

I blinked away from the photos. "It's a barrage."

"No. I think not."

I furrowed my brow at him.

He stood up and said, "Don't lie to me, Jane. It's unbecoming. Tell me the truth."

I sighed slightly as I noticed the soldiers in the corner start to inch towards us, almost as if they were ready for the order to shoot me. I replied, "It's from the shores of Normandy."

He nodded. "I thought as much. I recognized some of the buildings in the background."

"What buildings?" I asked.

He reached down and picked up a small magnifying glass. Holding it out to me, he pointed to the picture. I took the glass and looked. Sure enough, under the microscopic lens, you could make out bunkers that were being illuminated slightly from the barrages.

I handed the magnifying glass back to him. "I had no idea that was there."

"I know. But it does tell me that perhaps you aren't being as honest with your answers as I would have hoped. Don't do it again."

I watched as he sat back down at his desk and continued his work. He never looked back up at me again, and the soldiers stood their ground, still waiting orders should they come.

I didn't give them a chance to hear any. I turned and left the building, finishing putting the film in the camera as I started to wonder what was in store for me next.

That afternoon, I watched as a couple officers in dress uniform pulled up in a Jeep. They were talking rapidly and laughing with one another. Without them knowing, I was already beginning to take pictures of them. It seemed almost familiar between the two of them, perhaps they were childhood friends catching up with one another, or maybe they just became good friends over the course of the war. Whatever the reason, they were close and you could tell just by watching them interact. It was almost as if there was no war, no hate, and they were just living life as we were all meant to.

Suddenly, one of them pulled out a pocket watch and looked at it. Upon seeing the time, the man motioned to the back of the Jeep. He pulled out a box and his friend helped hold the items as they came out of the box. I couldn't tell what they were doing until the first man finally put the box back into the backseat of the Jeep.

In the gloved hands of the officers was a delicate tea cup and saucer. I furrowed my brow and lowered the camera from my face. I found myself having a difficult time believing that these men were actually having tea. They poured the tea from a thermos and continued chatting away like civilized people. I continued taking my pictures of them at that point.

When they were finished with their tea, the men put the cups and saucers back into the box, tucking it safely into the Jeep before heading inside a nearby building. I turned to Fritz and asked, "Since when do you guys have tea?"

"We're still people, Jane. We always have tea if we can," he replied.

"How come you didn't have tea?" I asked.

He chuckled. "I'm working."

I crossed my arms over my chest and waited.

He added, "I'm not an officer and therefore I don't have the privilege to do so."

Looking around and realizing there wasn't much to take pictures of, I sat down next to Fritz on the fountain ledge. "How long do you think I'm going to have to do this?"

Fritz shrugged. "As long as it takes, I suppose."  
"What does that even mean?" I asked.

"Utzig is looking for something, I don't know what, but whatever it is, it must be important. If he fails to find whatever it is that he is being ordered to find, or if you don't tell him what he wants to know, they may bring in someone else to force it out of you."

"I don't even know what he wants from me," I complained.

He nodded. "I know, but that won't matter to the person they send in to get it from you."

"I don't even remember much of anything. Don't they understand that?"

"I don't think it's going to matter much to them. You're a prisoner. They all say that they don't know or they don't remember. I don't think they will care or listen until you say something they want to hear," he stated.

"And if I lie?" I asked.

"You die."

I glanced over at him. "Are you serious?"

He nodded. "I've seen it happen - and not just to prisoners, but to our own men."

I thought about everything he had said. It dawned on me just how serious this situation was becoming. I needed to ask Utzig exactly what he wanted from me before they brought in this other person because from the sounds of what everyone around me was saying, I wouldn't be having an easy time with them here as I had so far.

Fritz said, "You better keep taking pictures. You're running out of time."

His words echoed within my very being. You're running out of time. Even though he only meant what time I had left for the day, I felt that the message was more like running out of time for my life.


	15. Who We Are

That evening, I had a moment of deja vu. Utzig was sitting behind his desk, doing paperwork of some kind, while his men stood in the corners of the room, waiting for orders.

Utzig snapped his fingers and his men came up to me and took my things, just has they had the night before. The same guard gave him my bag with my camera inside. Still, without looking up at me, Utzig asked, "How was today?"

"Cold."

He raised an eyebrow as he quickly peered up to look at me. "How many pictures did you capture today?"

I replied, "A full roll, just as you've asked me to do."

He nodded. "Is it in your bag or does Fritz have it again?"

I motioned towards my bag. "It's there." This time, I remembered where I had placed the roll. I didn't need Fritz to rescue me and I wanted to make sure that Utzig understood that.

He set his pen down onto his desk, rifled through my stuff and withdrew the canister. He passed it along to one of his men who left the room with it. He motioned for me to approach his desk, just as before, and asked, "Ready to look at more of your work?"

I shrugged. I didn't have an answer for him. It didn't matter what I said. I'd be forced to look at the pictures regardless of what I told him, so why bother saying anything at all?

He slid a picture across the desk towards me. "Explain."

I looked down at the photo. I didn't know what I was looking at. He could see it on my face. "I don't know what that is."

"It's Brecourt Manor. Does that place ring a bell for you?" he questioned.

I shook my head. "Should it?"

He smirked, shaking his head. "If you are playing at not having a memory, you're quite good." His demeanor changed back into the serious manner I had walked into as he continued, "We used to have a small battery in the fields of Brecourt, that is, before your men destroyed it."

"Huh," was how I responded. I sounded stupid, and I'm sure that Utzig thought the same thing, but I honestly didn't know the place, even though I clearly was there at some point during the war.

He tossed another picture at me. It was several of the men from Easy Company as well as a couple from another Company that I didn't know, smiling and celebrating. I could see they were at Brecourt Manor because the house was behind them. Utzig pointed to the photo. "Any of those men look familiar to you?"

I shook my head after giving it a good look. I didn't have to lie about that one, none of the men stood out to me as being familiar.

Utzig sighed as he continued throwing pictures at me. I didn't have answers. When he finally had reached a breaking point with me, he dismissed me for the evening.

Before I left, I asked, "What is it that you really want from me?"

Utzig peered up from his papers to look at me.

I continued, "You can't possibly just want me to take pictures of your men here for the rest of the war. I mean, those pictures are going to get pretty boring, pretty quickly. Are you going to send me elsewhere, or am I here because you want inside information on the enemy?"

Utzig's eyes lit up for a split second before falling down into the darkness that I grew familiar with. "You're not going to be around much longer if you don't start cooperating. In fact, because you're claiming to not remember much of anything, I hate to be the one to tell you, but they are sending in a specialist to deal with you."

I felt a lump form in my throat. This wasn't good. "Specialist?"

Utzig nodded slowly. "Unfortunately, this particular specialist is very good at getting what he wants."

"Why unfortunately? Isn't that what you want?" I questioned.

He looked almost morose when he replied, "The people this man usually 'works' with, ends up dead in the end."

The gravity of the situation was crystal clear. He added, "I fought the decision to bring them here, for your sake, you see. I like you, Jane, I do. However, it's been brought to my attention that the majority of the photos that you stated to remember details about were all lies, so I was ignored. You brought this on yourself."

I choked back the lump in my throat long enough to ask, "How long do I have before they show up?"

Utzig went back to his paperwork. "A couple weeks, I suspect."

I nodded slowly as Fritz pulled at my arm, leading me back to the comforts of my room, something that I figured I wouldn't have in a couple weeks.

Once I was safe inside the confines of my room, I pulled out the picture of Eugene. I looked at his frozen face and whispered, "What do I do?"

His dark eyes peered back at me, but no answer was in them. I closed my eyes and released a heavy and defeated sigh. If only I had let Anna work with me, maybe I'd remember things and these people wouldn't be coming. If only I had stayed home, none of this would have happened. Plenty of 'what ifs' ran through my head before I finally silenced them. The strong inner voice inside my head was screaming for attention and now was the moment I could finally hear it more clearly.

The voice inside my head was telling me that I needed to escape. It had a plan and I was out of options.

I spent the majority of the night peering out my window. I watched the guards in the town walk about, change shifts, and saw many of them sneaking off to either have fun with one of the women prisoners that were brought in frequently, or fall asleep on their watch. It seemed to me that since we were so isolated out here, the guards felt that there wasn't much to do and they were more lackadaisical in their behaviors as opposed to how I figured they'd be someplace else.

I fell asleep sometime during the early morning hours, and when the knock on my door came, I felt like the walking dead. I could barely keep my eyes open, let alone muster the energy needed to stand up and walk. I somehow managed to walk to the door and open it.

Staring back at me were the familiar eyes of Fritz and Styne. Fritz asked, "You look terrible. Did you sleep okay?"

I retorted, "Would you, knowing that you're going to possibly die in a couple weeks?"

His face dropped. I even noticed that Styne's face fell a little by my words. I began to wonder if Styne knew more about what was going on then I gave him credit for.

Fritz mumbled, "We better get going. Utzig is in a bad mood today."

I was careful not to stumble down the stairs as I made my way to Utzig's office. Once I was on the main level, I approached the room but was stopped. I glanced up at the man holding me up, but when I saw that Utzig was speaking to someone else quietly in the corner, I understood why I was stopped. Whatever the conversation was, he didn't want me to hear it. Of course, I was a prisoner, so it was only natural to be treated as such.

Their conversation was over, and the man he was speaking with left, and Utzig cleared his throat, allowing me to enter. He tossed my bag towards me, which I surprisingly caught. He stated, "You're going to be taking a little trip today."

"What?" I asked, confused.

Utzig stated, "Since you have limited time here now, I need you to go somewhere else before the specialist arrives."

"Uh, okay? Where am I going?" I questioned.

"There is a small prison nearby. I want you to take photos there. You'll spend the day there and be back here to report," he said.

I furrowed my brow at him. I felt like there was something up his sleeve by sending me out there. "What is it that you want me to capture out there?"

"The truth."

The truth. It was a simple answer, but it worried me because up until now, he had wanted to show the world that they were the same as us. The fact that suddenly his mood had altered, and he's talking about some hidden truth had me on edge.

"The truth..." I repeated.

"You'll understand when you get there. We will speak more when you return," he replied, waving me out the door.

Fritz sat beside me in the backseat while Styne drove us to our destination. He stated, "I don't like this."

I glanced over at him. "Why don't you like this?"

He spoke softly, almost as if someone else was listening to us, "I've heard stories about the prisons. If he's sending you here, to take pictures of 'the truth', then something bad is coming and he knows it."

"Something bad...for him?" I asked, confused.

I could see Styne nodding in the front seat as Fritz agreed. "Yes. Something bad might be coming for him...if this specialist is who we all think he is."

"Could you be anymore vague?" I asked.

Fritz seemed scared to talk about it. He looked out the window and refused to say anymore on the matter. Styne had yet to speak to me, so I knew it was pointless to try to get anything from him. For the moment, I had to dwell on the ominous behaviors of the men around me.

When we arrived to the gates of the prison, Styne parked the car. Fritz climbed out, motioning me to follow him. The three of us walked to the prison and I pulled my camera out. It didn't take me long to start taking pictures of the area around us.

I took pictures of the gates, which were barred up tightly. I took pictures of the guard towers, complete with two armed men in each tower. I grabbed shots of the double barbed wired fences that lined the perimeters. Just standing on the outside of this prison made my skin crawl. I was afraid of what I'd see once we entered.

The gates creaked open and the commanding officer had come out to greet us. He stood erect and saluted us. "We've been expecting you."

Fritz nodded and followed the man into the prison. I trailed behind with Styne as we crossed the threshold into the unknown.

The moment we stepped into this man-made prison, the smells hit me and I wanted to double over and vomit. The stench of urine, feces, blood, flesh, sweat, and more was overwhelming. The commanding officer turned and smirked at the three of us. "You'll get used to the smell within a few minutes. In the meantime, use these."

He snapped his fingers and a soldier approached him, carrying handkerchiefs. The man handed them to us and we were quick to put them over our noses. He nodded before taking his leave of us.

I peered into the prison, which was more like a camp as the buildings were lined up neatly inside deep ditches. There was a small pool of water that I could make out towards the back of the compound but it was clearly dirty water.

As I gazed around the camp, I could see figures suddenly appearing out of the small huts. They hobbled around, staring at us. I wasn't sure if I was seeing things clearly as everyone was still so far away, but I suddenly realized what Utzig meant by the truth.

I immediately began taking pictures of everything and everyone. I left nothing untouched. I went through five canisters taking pictures of the prisoners alone, and I was still unsure if I took pictures of everyone. The prisoners were grayed, gangly, and sickly. Their teeth were falling out, their hair shaved off, and their bones protruded from every angle. I took pictures of the dirty pool that they were using as bath water, drinking water, and cleaning water. I took pictures of the injuries on the prisoners, the states of the houses, the dead bodies that were left inside and outside the houses. I noticed small markings on their arms and asked Fritz about them. He shrugged, so I had him ask someone about them.

The man who Fritz asked had told us that they were branded, like cattle. They were given numbers to keep track of. I asked why they were here; he replied that they were Jews, Poles, gypsies, and more. He told us about how he was a simple shoe maker. He lived a simple life - a comfortable life - but it was all taken from him. His wife was gunned down in the street the day they were arrested. His ten year old daughter was run down by a car for trying to flee. His fifteen year old son was executed for looking like someone working with the Resistance, even though he was in the prison the whole time with him. His seventy year old father had just passed away a couple days ago, and his thirty year old brother was sick. He said that he wasn't sure his sisters or mother were still alive. He told us how he had asked the guards what his crime had been, and he got a broken rib for his trouble. The man cried and said that they had been in this prison longer than he could remember - that he used to keep track of the days, but he lost count after seven months. He had explained that they were put to work at some gassing chamber, sweeping up ashes of what they would later discover were family and friends, until they were ordered to stop. They haven't worked in a while, and they haven't had food or water for even longer. He talked about the pile of dead, listing their names, their occupations; most were his friends or neighbors. He spoke about how even though he was a prisoner, he hadn't lost his faith, but had lost hope in man and rescue or release.

It was at this moment, he noticed my camera and asked me if I was going to spread the truth about what was going on there. Was I there to free them? Was I going to save them?

I looked at the man's fading eyes and told Fritz to tell him, "You're damned right I am."


	16. Better Hide, Better Run

The drive back to my 'prison', I had a lot to think about. I realized that there was a reason that Utzig sent us there. If he was a target, as I was, for this specialist, then he knew his time was just as limited as mine was. If he sent me there to take pictures of what was going on, then he was against what was happening. I began to wonder if I had an ally hidden away in Utzig. I wasn't sure I would be able to even ask him that question without getting us both killed on the spot, but I had no other options.

I kept thinking about the horrible stories the prisoner had shared with us. I couldn't imagine why anyone would do this to people. I also wondered if I would ever get the chance to stay true to my word of saving them. Would my photos be enough to do that?

Fritz and Styne hadn't spoken a word since we left. I don't think any one of us were prepared to see and hear what we did. It changed everything for us.

The truth. The truth was hard to face...but what we faced was Hell itself and I wondered about the commanding officer we met today and began to wonder if we had met the devil himself. My mind began thinking that maybe he wasn't the devil, but Hitler was. He was the man giving the orders...I just couldn't understand the meaning behind them.

I stood before Utzig's desk. Surprisingly, his office was empty except for him, and the three of us. The three of us stood there, watching him carefully.

He took the bag from my outstretched arm and asked, "Did you do as I asked?"

I nodded. "The truth..." I swallowed before continuing, "They are on all of those rolls of film."

He nodded back solemnly. "Good."

I still had my camera and took one photo of him, gazing sadly down at my pack. When he heard the shutter click, he quickly glanced up at me. He sighed, letting out a small chuckle. "I was wondering when you'd get around to taking a photo of me."

"Seemed appropriate," I replied.

He extended his hand for my camera, which I passed over to him.

I asked, "Why did you send us there?"

He put the items down on his desk and replied, "I felt it was important for you to understand when I told you that not all of us are monsters, that I wasn't lying. Some of us are against the practices that take place in this war. That prison and the others out there, is just one of the many things I'm against."

"What do you mean, others...you're saying there are more prisons like that out there somewhere?" I questioned.

He nodded. "Several, actually. All over Europe. Some hold about the same amount of people that the one you went to does, some hold many more."

"What about those ovens?" I asked.

Utzig seemed shocked that I knew about those. "I take it you spoke to the prisoners there?"

I nodded. "Hard not to."

He nodded back in agreement, understanding what I meant. "There are several camps with gas chambers used to kill the prisoners, then they are sent on to ovens to cremate the bodies. It's genocide."

"Why haven't you stopped it?" I asked.

He shook his head. "I'm not that powerful. They are orders that we have to follow."

"Says who?" I questioned. "Hitler? This specialist?"

Utzig grew ridged. He didn't want to talk about it, that much was clear. He shifted in his place and stated, "About that. You're in luck. The road out here was hammered with snow and ice. It's going to put off the specialist's arrival for a while."

"You seem a little relieved yourself," I pointed out.

He offered a small smile. "Get some rest."

"Wait."

He turned back to me.

I asked, "What are you planning on doing with those canisters? I mean, are you going to give those over to your superiors?"

He shook his head. "No. Not my superiors. Yours."

My mouth fell open. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. He was going to betray his own country, his own men, his own orders - to inform my country what was really going on here, what this war was really about. He was about to commit suicide if anyone found out. "How are you planning on doing that without getting caught?"

He pointed to Fritz. "How do you think we found you?"

I looked over at Fritz. "I thought you said you were going AWOL that day."

Fritz shrugged his shoulders. "I couldn't exactly tell you the truth now, could I?"

"How did you even know about me?" I pondered out loud.

Utzig replied, "When word reached us that there was a wartime photographer, we knew we had to get our hands on that person. Everything changed when we learned said photographer was a woman."

"Changed, how?" I asked.

"You'd be easier to find," Utzig said, matter of factly.

I felt stupid for asking such a question. Suddenly, a thought popped into my head regarding Fritz. I asked him, "Did you know about the prison all this time?"

He shook his head. "There were rumors, but I've never seen it until today."

I turned my attention back to Utzig. "So you're going to send him off with the photos? Then what?"

"We hope he doesn't get caught with them," Utzig replied. "Until he returns, Styne is going to be your guard...that is until the specialist arrives."

"And if he doesn't return?" I asked. I turned towards Fritz and added, "No offense." Fritz waved my comment aside.

Utzig stated, "Let's hope for all of our sakes that he does."

I asked, "What do you get out of all of this? What's your gain?" I was still lost behind his motives. Something wasn't adding up in my muddled mind.

He simply said, "Freedom."

Sometime during the night, Fritz had taken my bag filled with the film canisters that I used up during our little field trip to the prisoner camp and took off. He never said goodbye, and I had to pretend that I didn't know where he was going if anyone asked. I thought it was a risky move informing me of what they were planning, especially if this specialist was as good as they were saying in getting information out of people. Utzig had informed me that the last thing they'd ask me would be the whereabouts of a simple and lowly soldier on the enemy's line.

I woke up the next morning and was nervous. Something wasn't right. Something bad was coming, I could feel it. Shaking the nervousness from my being, or at least trying to shake it off, I opened the door to my room to see Styne waiting for me.

He motioned towards the stairs and I walked down as I had the past several days, if not weeks. I was beginning to lose track of how long I had been here.

Just as he had every morning, Utzig handed me my camera and film to take pictures about the town. His conversation was short and to the point. I took the items and headed out into the cold.

I walked about aimlessly. There wasn't much to take pictures of that I hadn't already taken. The town was spent and I had no other option but to hope that something new would happen so that I could do my job.

Styne followed me around silently, until I sat down and asked, "How old are you, Styne?"

He blinked at the question but responded with a heavy accent, "Old."

I smirked at him. "Old. Good to know."

His eyes held a small twinkle in them. "I've served in four wars."

"Four?" I repeated, completely shocked. There was no way of knowing how old he was when he went off to his first war, which also meant there was no way of knowing exactly how old he was today.

He nodded. "This is, however, the first war I have ever witnessed such horrible atrocities. I never thought I'd live to see a day when we torture and murder innocent people, or take innocent people like you prisoner."

I listened to him speak about his ideals, his morals, his experiences. I was beginning to understand why he had so many medals on his coat, and the battle-worn face he had, not to mention the wisdom beyond any one's years.

That afternoon, I asked, "Styne? Do you know much about this specialist that's coming?"

He shifted uncomfortably in his spot. He glanced about quickly before softly replying, "Yes."

I waited for him to continue, but when I realized he wasn't going to, I pushed him. "And?"

He looked extremely uneasy. To his credit, he stood a little closer to me and whispered, "If he does come here, you best watch yourself. He won't hesitate to kill you."

"I don't understand why this person is coming here. What's so special about me?" I asked.

He blinked at me in disbelief. "You know where the enemy is. You've seen them train. You're friends with them-"

I cut him off. "I don't know anything important though. I'm just some stupid American girl who ran off to join the newspaper back home - to come here - so that I could tell people back home what's really going on here. A stupid girl with no memory."

He gave he a sympathetic gaze, but said nothing more. There wasn't anything to say. I began to think that this was going to be my final days. There was no way out.

I looked up at him, meeting his tired eyes and asked, "Do you think it's possible for me to escape before they come?"

He shook his head woefully.

"Why not? Don't you think it's worth trying?" I asked quietly.

He shook his head again and whispered, "It's too late."

"What do you mean, it's too late? If I left tonight-"

He cut me off. "It's too late. I see the envoy approaching up the lane now."

I whirled around to stare down the road outside of town. He was right. There was a fancy car approaching, along with trucks carrying large artillery. I turned back to him. "I thought they were stuck in the pass?"

He shrugged, unable to give me an answer. We stood there together in the cold, watching as the envoy made its way into town. Any and all hope of my escape was gone. I feared that my days were numbered now that they had arrived.

I needed a miracle.


	17. Against The Wall

I stood there dumbfounded as I watched the men get out of the vehicles and begin organizing the weapons that they brought with them. A couple of soldiers had gone to the fancy car and opened the door, saluting in the process. It was then that I had caught my first glimpse of this 'specialist'.

He stood at least another foot taller than the rest of the men. His uniform was neatly laundered and pressed, hat firmly secured on the top of his head. His movements were very precise and coordinated. He was escorted into the main building, most likely to be introduced to Utzig.

I turned back to Styne. "Tell me the truth, do I have any chance of surviving this guy?"

Styne gave me sad eyes and a shrug.

"I don't remember anything of importance to any of you...you know this," I stated. "What good will come from meeting this guy?"

I could tell that Styne wanted to say something, but kept quiet. I wondered if it was because if he said anything, this specialist would use it against him, or perhaps he'd be killed for anything he might say. I couldn't do that to Styne.

I turned back around to face the main house and saw soldiers approaching us. I swallowed back bile as I knew that they were coming for me. When they stopped a couple feet away from us, they motioned for me to follow. I felt Styne's old hand rest onto my shoulder, gently squeezing it in comfort as he nudged me forward.

We trudged through the snow towards the house. I hesitated before crossing the threshold. I had no idea what to expect, but given everyone's reactions to this man's arrival, I knew it was nothing good.

I was escorted into the room where Utzig's office was and there before the desk, stood the man from the fancy car, in the fancy suit, looming over everyone else. I stopped in my tracks.

"Miss Finley. May I introduce our new guest here, Captain Sauer. He will be staying here for a while," Utzig carefully stated.

I glanced back and forth between the two of them warily. I wasn't sure what to say or what to do.

Sauer removed his hat from his dark hair, placing it under his bent arm, and gave me a curt nod. "I do hope that we can learn much from one another whilst I'm here."

His tone of voice was like a knife. It sliced through the air with such sharpness and finesse that every fiber of my being was on edge. He was not to be trusted, this I knew deep down into my core.

He smiled at me, as if knowing that I was uncomfortable. He read me like a book and it was showing that he was already winning the battle. Inside, I was panicking.

Utzig had been giving me sympathetic glances the moment I had walked into his office. I think he knew that things were about to get bad for me and sooner than anyone had hoped.

Sauer stated, "I was afraid that I wouldn't have made it here in time with all that snow in the pass, but we managed to carve out a decent section."

Utzig nodded. "We're pleased to hear that the snow wasn't too difficult for you. The skies have been threatening snow for the past few days. I'll have some men bring more wood to your room."

Sauer placed his hat back onto his head. "Thank you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some business to attend to." He gave Utzig another quick nod but as he approached me, he stopped a couple inches from me and without looking at me or turning to see if I was paying attention, he whispered, "I'll be coming for you soon enough."

Once he brushed passed me, every hair on my body stood at attention. My mouth went dry and I felt sick. I was stressed. Time was running out and I worried how long I could keep myself alive.

I opened my eyes and slowly blinked. The sun was beginning to cast it's morning glow through my window. I stretched my arms above my head, arching my back slightly, waking my entire body. I released a heavy sigh and sat up on the edge of my bed, pushing the down blanket to the foot of my four post bed.

I padded across the room towards the window, pushing the lace curtains aside so that I could see outside. It was snowing. It was so cold outside that it was already forming tiny ice crystals along the panes of my window.

I heard clattering coming from downstairs. I grabbed my robe and pulled my arms through, securing it tightly around me. I quickly jammed by feet into my old slippers and I carefully opened my bedroom door.

The aroma hit my nostrils and filled them instantaneously. I inhaled deeply. Fresh bacon, eggs, and a subtle sweetness, possibly maple had hit me. My mouth watered as I darted down the stairs towards the kitchen.

Inside the kitchen, my father was by the stove frying bacon. I stopped in my tracks as I watched him work. He turned to see me staring. He smiled warmly at me. "Don't just stand there. Grab an apron and give me a hand."

I grabbed the old apron that was hanging on the nail by the door and quickly fastened it to me. He pointed to the eggs, and I knew what I needed to do.

As I was flipping the eggs in the pan, I heard a familiar voice speak behind us. "Well, isn't this a pleasant surprise."

My father and I turned to see my mother approaching the table to sit down. She smiled at us both, watching us cook together in our little kitchen.

My father finished plating food on one of the chipped china dishes and placed it in front of her, giving her loving kiss on top of her head. "Happy birthday, darling."

I woke to the familiar scents of my mother's birthday. I sat up and looked around at my prison. It was colder in my room than usual. Standing up, I pulled my jacket closer to me, praying that somehow it would provide me with some kind of warmth. I pushed back the old cotton curtain from the window and glanced out.

German soldiers patrolled the area outside, some smoking to keep warm. It was starting to snow. My window was already icy.

A knock on my door broke my attention. I glanced over my shoulder. "Yes?"

"Your presence has been requested downstairs," an unfamiliar voice spoke from the other side. I wondered where Styne was.

I opened the door to see a man I've never seen before staring back at me. "Who are you?"

He ignored my question, and extended his arm out, directing me towards the stairs.

"Where's Styne?" I asked, slowly making my way to the stairs.

"He's been reassigned."

I blinked at the new man and he ushered me forward. Once I was on the last step of the stairs, I was redirected towards the dining room.

I crossed the threshold of the room to see a banquet of food gracing the table. Breads, fruits, meats - including bacon, butter... too much for my eyes to take in, were placed on delicate china before me. I gaped at the display. Then my eyes landed on the man I met the night before.

Sitting at the head of the table was Sauer. He had a napkin tucked into the neck of his shirt, full plate of food sat in front of him. He put his silver dinnerware down and extended a hand to the chair on the far end of the table, facing him. "Please, sit."

I was nudged forward by the new guard towards the chair. I sat down, barely able to see around all the food to meet the gaze of Sauer. I found a little comfort in knowing there were at least six chairs separating us at the table.

He asked as he picked up his cutlery, "Are you hungry?"

I watched him take a bite of potatoes. My stomach growled. "No."

His dark eyes darted to me. "I find that hard to believe. You look starved. Please, eat." He motioned to the nearby guard, saying something to them in German. The guard grabbed a clean plate from the stack nearby and began loading it up with food.

"Really, I'm okay," I started again.

"It's rude to not eat while your host is eating," Sauer stated firmly. It made me nervous, so I stopped trying to decline.

The heaping plate of food was set down before me. I could see the steam rising from the food. My body was dying for a warm meal. My stomach was betraying me.

I could feel Sauer's eyes on me. I slowly looked up at him as he raised his glass of mulled wine at me. The guards filled my crystal goblet and I stared wide-eyed at it. When Sauer raised his glass at me again, I did the same. He seemed pleased with me. I watched him sip from his cup, and I felt like I would be in trouble if I didn't do the same.

The red wine was filled with warm spices as it danced on my taste buds. It reminded me of Christmas dinners. I was taken by surprise to remember anything of those times because I hadn't thought of those times in quite a while...if I had even remembered any of it.

Sauer asked, "How is your food?"

I carefully chewed the food, fighting the urge to wolf down my food. "It's good, thank you."

Sauer continued eating as he asked, "I understand you're a photographer?"

I swallowed a half-chewed piece of ham. "Yes, that's correct."

"I know a little bit of photography myself. What kind of camera do you have?" he questioned.

I furrowed my brow. Surely he already knew the answer to that question. "It's a Kodak."

"I saw it on Utzig's desk, I admit, but I've never seen one like that before," he admitted.

I studied his face as I used my tongue as a toothpick to remove a chunk of ham that wedged itself between my molars.

"What got you into photography?" he asked.

I sipped more of the wine. "Hobby."

He laughed a hearty laugh, but there was something sinister attached to it. I was suddenly on edge. "Doesn't everything start as a hobby?"

"What hobby do you have?" I asked carefully.

He pulled his napkin from his neck, dabbing his mouth with it before setting it on the table next to his plate. "I have no hobby."

I slowly nodded to his response, but remained silent. Something was coming.

He asked, "Who do you work for?"

"Uh...the Times?"

"That's not what I'm asking," he stated, shifting in his chair.

"I'm confused," I replied. "That's who I work for."

His gaze bore into my soul. "Who do you work for? I don't want lies, I want answers."

This was beginning to escalate quickly. I wasn't sure I was going to have the answers he was looking for...or at least the answers he wanted. I swallowed. "I'm not military. I work for the Times...just a field photographer trying to capture the war efforts for the people back home."

He snapped his fingers and the plate of food that sat before me was taken away. The almost empty cup of wine was taken from my hand.

I suddenly felt stupid. I fell for one of the oldest tricks in the book on interrogation. Bribe the target with food and drink. My parents would be disappointed in me, but I couldn't help myself. I was hungry.

Sauer stood up and started to leave the room. The guard standing behind me, kicked my chair, motioning to me to stand up and follow. I reluctantly did so. I was afraid of what was going to happen next.

As we entered the next room, Sauer stated, "I've seen your photographs that Utzig has had developed." He turned to look at my face before adding, "Impressive work, but I want to see it all."

He showed me the desk that was Utzig's. It was covered in photos that I had apparently taken. He pointed to one of them and said, "You say that you don't work for anyone but the times, yet I see the same people in your photos. Explain."

"I said that I work for the Times..."

He cut me off, "Why is this man in so many of your photographs?" He picked up a stack of photos and raised it up to show me the top on. It was Roe. I swallowed hard.

"He's no one," I stated.

Sauer laughed, dropping the pictures onto the desk. "Utzig told me that you don't remember much...some kind of amnesia, he said. I think he's being played a fool."

I could feel the walls around me closing in. I shivered under his evil gaze.

"I'm not a fool, Miss Finley. You'd do best to remember that."

I nodded in agreement. It was all that I could do in that moment. My voice was stuck in my throat.

"Now...I want you to be completely honest with me. If you are, I assure you, the meal you just had won't be your last one," he began. He ran his long fingers through his hair. Sighing, he asked, "Who are these men whom you've taken pictures of?"

I replied, "They are the group I was assigned to."

"Group..." he muttered. He glanced at me and said, "I believe you to be someone of great value to the enemy. I want to know why you're here."

He pushed through the pictures on the desk and picked up a picture of Styne. He smirked. "I see you're putting your charms to work. It's why I ordered him away from this detail."

I stared at the picture of Styne that I had taken the moment that I got to this blasted place. Styne looked so sad standing in the town square, in the cold. His medals dragging his coat down on the left side. I suddenly wished he was in the room with me...a friend was who I needed now.

He put the picture down and picked up another. It was Sobel. "This man looks like he's in charge. Who is he?"

"He was a training commander," I stated.

"Was?"

I shrugged. "I don't know what happened to him."

"Is he dead?"

I shrugged again. "I don't know."

Sauer slammed his hands onto the desk, causing me to jump. "I'm losing patience with you." He walked around the desk to stand in front of me. He towered over me and I involuntarily started to shake in my boots. "If you don't want to be cooperative, you will suffer. Now, I like you, Miss Finley. I want to make this process as comfortable for you as possible, but I will not tolerate this game any longer. Are you going to cooperate?"

I blinked away tears. Nodding, I spoke in barely a whisper, "Yes."

"Good girl. Now...I want you to tell me the truth," he began. He picked up my journal and held it up to his shoulder. "You've done a fantastic job detailing some of the training you witnessed back in the States...but suddenly, it's been filled with gibberish. Explain."

I sighed. I knew he wasn't going to like my answer. "I don't know. I don't remember any of it."

He exhaled curtly. "That's not what I wanted to hear. I thought we had an understanding, you and me," he tossed the book onto the desk and added, "But I guess you just don't believe me when I say that things are going to end badly for you." He snapped his fingers and motioned to me.

Two guards grabbed my arms and pulled me towards the front door. I heard Sauer shout after us, "I tried, Miss Finley. Maybe a night without the comforts of a house will straighten you out."

I was led to a shack in the back of the house. It was a little bigger than a garden hutch shed, but not big enough to really stand up or lay down in. The guards tossed me in and slammed the door closed. I stood in the dark room in the frigid air alone. I pulled my jacket closer to me, sticking my frozen fingers under my armpits, seeking some kind of warmth.

I slid down the wall to the floor and sat there, rocking slightly back and forth to fight the discomfort of the cold winter weather.

It was going to be a long and miserable night.


	18. Don't Fight It

I shielded my eyes as the door to my cold prison was opened and the morning light flooded the small room, blinding me. When the air hit me, it felt warmer outside than it did in my little prison.

The guards entered and grabbed my arms, jerking me to my feet and pushing me towards the house. Once we reached the door, the forced me into the house, leading me into the dining room, where once again, Sauer was sitting at the head of the table, full plate of food and goblet of mulled wine sat before him.

He didn't look up at me as I was seated in the same chair I was in yesterday morning. "How was your night?"

I was started to get feeling back in my fingertips, as I sat on them. I didn't answer his question.

He quickly glanced at me as he took a bite of bread. "Are you ready to cooperate?"

I waited silently for his next question. I knew that no matter the question, it wouldn't be what he was looking for.

He asked, "Who are those men in the pictures? Who do you work for?"

I replied, "I work for the Times, in New York. I was assigned to a group of men to follow behind the lines."

Sauer inhaled deeply. "Who do you work for?"

"The Times." I wondered how many times I had to answer this question.

He drank from his wine. "Who's the man in the pictures? The training commander, where is he?"

"I don't know," I replied. "He could be dead for all I know."

"I see that you're still not willing to cooperate. That's a shame," he stated, placing his napkin on the table. He motioned to me again. The guards aggressively grabbed my arms and jerked me to my feet. Sauer said, "Eventually, you'll learn that I'm not in the mood to play these games. This is just the beginning of your discomfort, Jane. It will only get worse the longer you hold out on me."

I replied, "I'm telling you the truth. I don't know what it is you're hoping for, but this is the truth."

He smirked as he stood up and showed me a new picture. It was photos of the prison camp down the road. "Why would the Times be interested in pictures like this?" Before I could respond, he ordered to the guards, "Take her coat."

They ripped the jacket clean off my back and began to escort me back into the cold hell of a prison. They pushed me in and I barely caught myself on the wall before I was enveloped in darkness and cold once more.

This continued for several days. Sauer would pull me out of the small shed and into the warmth of the house, place me in front of a full table of food, and ask me the same questions. Sometimes, he would show me a new picture, but it was always the same.

Who do you work for? Why are you here? Where is the training commander? There was not much more to his questions. Every time I would answer the same, he would get angrier and angrier. He'd toss me back into my cold prison to rot until morning where we would do this sick dance all over again.

Then one day, he took my shoes. My toes would burn each time it touched snow, but they burned even worse sitting inside the house, where the fire was roaring nearby. I worried that I would lose my toes to frostbite as the snow fell harder and the temperatures dropped even more.

I hadn't had food in several days, and I was starting to lose weight as my clothes started to feel looser than they had before he showed up.

The shed door opened and the guards waited for me to stand up. Slowly, I managed to stand up on my own. They pushed me forward and I fell in the snow. My whole body shook in the wet snow. I felt hands grab me, holding me up as they forced me into the same dining room full of food that I wouldn't be able to eat.

Once again, I listened to the questions, and once again, I answered them the same. This time, however, Sauer slammed his fists into the table and shouted at me, "I will break you, you little bitch!"

He kicked his chair out from under him as he charged me. I was too weak to fight back as he back handed me so hard, knocking me to the wood floor. I felt heat for the first time in a while on my face. When I touched my lip with my frozen hands, I saw that the source of the heat was my blood.

Strong hands turned me over and I was backhanded again. I saw stars and I was forced to open my eyes. Sauer stood over me, ready to strike me again, but he stopped. His angry eyes fell on my shirt pocket.

He pulled me to my feet, tossing me in the direction of the guards. "Hold her," he ordered them. Sauer approached me and opened the pocket on my breast. He removed the picture of Roe that I had been holding onto.

"No-" I tried to say, but was interrupted by a hard punch to the gut. I would have fallen to the floor, gasping for air, but the guards were holding me up, refusing me the opportunity to crumple in a ball.

Sauer glared at the picture. "Who is this?"

I coughed a few times, watching the blood from my lip drip onto the wood planks by my bare blue feet.

He jerked my head up by the chin and demanded, "Who is this? Why is he so important to you?"

"He's a friend," I mumbled through the pain.

"Friend," he scoffed. "No such thing. Not here."

I shook from a chill down my spine. "He's just a friend. He's from the group of men I was placed with."

Sauer asked, "Where is he now?"

"I don't know," I stated.

Sauer nodded. "Still, after all this time, you still won't tell me what I want to know."

"I'm telling you the truth-" I started.

He cut me off. "You are the first, I must say, first woman to withstand this much pain and suffering...it almost makes me believe that what you say is truth." He ran his hand over his face, sighing almost in defeat. "I think I've been too easy on you...I'm done playing your game."

I feared what was coming. This madman had proven that he was on a mission for something, some kind of information that I just didn't have. He was determined to make me lie for him...and I couldn't do that.

Memories of Renee and Anna came rushing into my head. I was so stupid not to let them help me remember everything. If I had let them, I wouldn't be here. Then again, if I wasn't a silly stupid girl and had listened to my crazy mother, I wouldn't even be here at all.

Sauer's eyes were ablaze with anger and fire. It was as if I were staring at the devil himself. "Strip her," he spat.  
My eyes widened at the order. I felt multiple hands grabbing at me as I was being stripped naked.

Sauer stated, "Let's see how long you last out in that shed of yours with nothing to protect you, nothing to hide behind...maybe then, you'll start to tell me what I want to know...or you'll wither away into nothing."

The guards pushed me back out into the frozen world and towards the shed. They threw me in, and I didn't have the strength to stop myself from falling after hitting the wall. I crashed to the floor, and didn't bother moving. I watched as the light from the outside world grew smaller and smaller until I was engulfed in darkness.

The next morning, I could barely feel my body as I was dragged out of the shed and pulled into the house. I was placed into the same chair that I was put into every morning for the past...well, who knows how long.

Sauer sipped his wine, like he always did. I waited for him to begin asking me the same questions that he had been but he was silent. I raised my gaze to a rather large bearded man standing behind him. The bearded man was quite burly and he was terrifying in his own way. I worried that something new was coming.

Sauer picked up his cutlery and ordered the guards behind me, "Give her a blanket."

I felt the scratchy wool blanket drape over my tired frame.

"This here," he began, pointing the knife over his shoulder to the bearded man who loomed over him, "is Lange. He is going to be staying with us for a while. I thought you'd like to meet him."

Lange never looked or acknowledged me, which increased my suspicions on how he was, especially in regards to Sauer.

Sauer continued, "He will be helping me around here."

I tried to swallow, but my throat felt swollen shut.

Sauer must have seen my struggle. "Give her some water."

I blinked at the glass that was held out before my face. I hesitated to take it, but willed myself to find the strength to grab it.

Sauer seemed pleased that I took the water, even though my hands were shaking as I brought the rim to my lips. The cool water burned as it flowed down my throat and into my stomach where it settled in a pool of discomfort. I fought the urge to throw it up.

Sauer began his questioning. "Who do you work for?"

Sighing, I croaked, "The Times."

"Who is that in the pictures?"

"Training commander."

"Where is he?"

"I don't know."

He sighed and bore his gaze into my soul. "I really hoped you'd cooperate. Lange, break a finger."

My eyes grew large as I watched the towering and lumbering man approach me. I tried to keep my fingers balled up and away from him, but he overpowered my weak fist with ease. I felt the bones in my left pinkie snap like a twig. I let out a pained shriek, cradling my hand.

"Let's try this again, shall we?" Sauer said calmly. "Tell me what I want to know, or I'll have him break another one."

I felt tears roll down my cheeks. "I'm telling you the truth..."

"Lange."

Another finger snapped on my left hand. Another scream escaped my lips.

Sauer stared at me. Anger was boiling behind his eyes, but he said nothing more. He motioned to the guards behind me to take me back to my shed.

Once I was back into the dark and freezing room, naked and alone, I willed myself to feel my fingers. I knew if I didn't set them, I'd lose the ability to use them again...but I couldn't see anything. The cold had engulfed me once more, so feeling my way through wasn't going to help either. I had no choice but pray that when this was all over, if I survived this, that I'd still have a hand to use.

The next morning, I heard a commotion outside my prison. I couldn't make out the words as to what was going on, but it certainly had the soldiers interested. They were hollering and whooping in cheer.

The sounds of them started to settled down. I forced myself up onto my knees just as the door flung open. My eyes burned from the bright light even as I shielded them with my hand. The guards grabbed my upper arms gruffly, yanking me to my feet before tossing my clothes at me. I stared at my clothes that were in my arms before glancing up at the guards.

"Get dressed," one ordered.

I struggled to get dressed and the impatient guards spoke in hushed whispers to each other as they watched me. When I finally managed to get my jacket over my shoulders, they grabbed my arms, pulling me towards the house.

Something was not right. I knew it. It wasn't just because of the cheering from earlier, nor the fact that they just gave me all my clothes back, but there was something in the air that seemed off.

As every day before, I was escorted into the dining room where Sauer was sitting with his food. He wasn't alone. Standing behind him was Lange, as well as the normal soldiers in the room as before, but there was a small frame sitting at the table in between where Sauer sat, and where they've placed me this whole time.

Sauer motioned to my chair. "Sit."

I hobbled over to my chair and sank down into it. I raised my heavy eyes to meet those worried eyes of another woman. She sat there staring back at me with bright blue eyes. She brushed strands of her short black hair from her face ready to ask me a question before Sauer cleared his throat, stopping her from doing so.

Sauer said, "I wanted to you to meet someone. Jane, this is Marta. Marta, Jane."

I studied Sauer for a moment before nodding my acknowledgment to Marta. She smiled at me briefly. Inside, I was shaking my head. She clearly had no idea who this man was and what he was capable of doing, let alone what he was going to do to her.

Sauer continued, "You must be wondering who Marta is. She is who I thought you to be."

I furrowed my brow at him. My eyes fluttered back to Marta, studying her features. We looked nothing alike. She had raven hair, mine was auburn. Her blue eyes stood out like big puddles of water, whereas mine didn't even match. She was a thinner frame and shorter than me. Nothing about his statement was adding up.

"We saw you and assumed that you were the one we were looking for," he added. "However, it was brought to our attention the other night that maybe we had grabbed the wrong woman."

I was on edge. Nothing was adding up, nothing made sense. This seemed like a trap. Marta was glancing between me and Sauer, obviously looking for some kind of reaction from one of us, but neither was giving it to her. We had been playing this game for too long to be giving anything to each other. We all knew it to be true too.

I licked my bruised and busted lip before croaking out my first words of the day. "So, what now?"

Sauer dabbed his lips with his napkin. "We talk to Marta to find out what she knows."

"About what?" she asked, glancing over at him.

He ignored her and continued addressing me. "You, however, will get a break to catch your breath."

"Is that why you gave me my clothes back?" I asked.

He cleared his throat. "Yes, but that's crude talk for the dinner table, Jane. I had hoped you had better manners than that."

I caught a glimpse of worry spread across Marta's face when I said that. Clearly, she had no idea.

Sauer motioned to the food and said, "Please eat. You look ill."

I wonder why. I thought to myself. A soldier placed a small amount of food and drink before me. I knew that he was giving me little food because I had been starved these past several days. Sauer didn't want to kill me, but give me enough to stay alive yet miserable.

Sauer turned his attention to Marta. "Now then, why don't we start with a simple question. Who do you work for?"

Memories of him asking me that on my first day with him sprang into my mind. He was nice about it at first before things went south. I worried for Marta.

She replied, "I work for independent papers."

Sauer shook his head. "That's not what I meant." He looked at me and chuckled before asking, "What is it with you women?" He turned his attention back to Marta. "Who are you working for?"

She looked at me then back to Sauer, clearly confused by the question as I had been. "I'm an independent photographer and journalist."

Sauer released a heavy sigh. "I have no patience to do this all over again. I'll ask you one more time before I have Lange get involved. Who do you work for?"

"Maybe I don't understand what you're looking for," she admitted.

Sauer leaned over her before whispering just loud enough for both of us to hear, "You will. Even if I have to beat it out of you."

He stood up, turned towards Lange and nodded. As Sauer began to approach my side of the table, Lange had grabbed Marta and began escorting her to another room of the house.

I stared at the food before me just as I began to hear her screaming. Sauer leaned down to my ear and whispered, "I'd eat if I were you. You're going to need the strength."

When he passed by me, I mulled over his words. He was right. I'd need the energy and strength to survive whatever he had coming next. He had a plan in motion, and I was being forced along for the ride.

I ate.


	19. The World And All Its Lessons

I stared at my empty plate, feeling guilty. Sauer paced about the room, eyeing me occasionally, but I could see the cogs moving inside his head.

Marta had grown quiet. I wondered what had happened to her. When Lange appeared, he nodded at Sauer.

Sauer looked at my guards and ordered, "Take her back. I have something to attend to."

I wanted as Sauer left with Lange in tow to whatever room had Marta inside. The guards escorted me back to my frozen prison where I was pushed back inside. I sat down on the cold floor and waited.

As I waited for something to happen, I began to formulate a plan to escape. I knew that I had a hard task at hand simply because I was only ever brought out of the prison to see Sauer. There were always armed soldiers escorting me, the little town we were in had armed men throughout, and if I waited until I was inside, there was Sauer himself, other armed guards, and not to mention Lange.

I sighed heavily, trying to remember details in my recent routine, to come up with something that could be of use. There was the cutlery on the table that I could try to steal and hide within my clothes, but Sauer usually had too many guards there watching on. If I were to try and steal something, and if I were to get caught with it, I'm sure that Lange would break my arm instead of a couple fingers.

Thinking of my fingers, I rubbed my hands together, feeling the broken digits. I was beginning to worry that they were lost to me.

Before I could think of anything else, the door opened, blasting me with cold air and bright light. I watched as Marta was thrown into the shed with me. She landed next to me, releasing a exasperated groan. The door slammed behind her.

I cautiously reached out to her. At first, she flinched at my touch, but she relaxed when I said, "Easy. It's just me." I helped her sit up and asked, "What happened to you?"

She grimaced through her pain as she sat up next to me. "He's a monster."

I nodded in the darkness. "Yeah."

"How long have you been here?" she asked me.

I thought for a moment before replying, "I don't know anymore. It's been a while."

She asked, "Why are you even here?"

"I don't know."

Once again, "I don't know" became a common catchphrase for me, it's just the usage was slightly different than it had been before. I suddenly felt an overwhelming surge of guilt and regret. I should have made better choices in life; all of this could have been avoided.

"Is there a way out of here?" she asked me, bringing me back to the present.

I shrugged. "I don't know. I haven't tried to-"

"You're telling me that you haven't tried to escape?" Marta asked in horror and disbelief.

I replied, "It's a bit more complicated than that."

"Really?" she scoffed at me. "I find that hard to believe."

"There are armed guards all over the city. Not to mention the ones guarding our shed. Sauer and Lange sit in the house that overlooks us..." I sighed and added, "Like I said, it's complicated."

Marta continued to look around in the dark. I could hear her hands running up and down the boards that made our walls. She whispered, "I think I found something."

I began hearing cracking and bits of light peeking thru. It wasn't long before the boards cracking alerted the guards outside our shed. They fired a couple warning shots into our shed. Both of us hit the ground, covering our heads, praying that they'd stop shooting us.

When they stopped firing at our shed, the door flew open. We both glanced up to see Sauer and Lange by our guards.

"What the hell is going on here?" Sauer demanded. Unsure if he was talking to us or his guards, we both remained silent. Sauer turned to the guards. "Speak!"

"They were doing something in there. We heard boards breaking," the one answered.

Sauer stepped inside and looked about the inside. He shook his head and said, "There's nothing in unusual in here. Except all the bullet holes." He glanced down at us and asked, "What were you two doing in here?" Marta and I exchanged glances, but said nothing. Sauer released a heavy sigh, clearly frustrated. "I see. If you don't want to speak, then we'll just have Lange work it out."

As Sauer walked out, and Lange stepped inside. I worried that I would be the one he'd grab, but instead, he grabbed Marta.

Before he could remove her from the shed, she shrieked, "Okay! Okay! I did it! I pulled at the boards!"

Sauer's voice came from behind Lange. "Very good. Next time, speak up sooner."

Lange landed a strong blow into Marta's stomach, dropping her breathless to the floor before he left and the door was slammed shut.

I could hear her gasping for air after the punch. Now that we had some light from her broken board and the bullet holes, it was easier to see inside the shed.

Marta groaned as she pushed herself back up into a seated position. She exhaled sharply. I asked, "Are you okay?"

She nodded. "I've had worse."

I saw her face and understood her words. Whatever Lange did to her in the other room showed. Her left eye was swollen shut and badly bruised. She had numerous cuts across her face and lips. There was even a faint outline of hands around her neck. I swallowed at the sight of her, thankful it wasn't me.

She looked me over. "What happened to you?"

I shook my head. "I can't remember anymore."

She moved closer to me, examining my face closer. She touched the broken part of my lip, which still stung, even after all this time. She saw the bruises across my face from when Sauer beat me. She even saw my mangled fingers. "Oh...When did this happen?"

I shook my head. Time was passing slowly these days that it wasn't a matter of my not remembering the event but more on how many days had passed between each moment.

She felt around my broken fingers. "We need to set them."

"I think it's been too long for that," I stated.

She moved my fingers and when I didn't cry out in pain, it proved that they were already healing in the wonky position they were in. She said, "I'm going to need to break them again so that I can set them properly."

I stared at her. She couldn't be serious, but she nodded at me with reassurance, so I let her. When she broke my fingers again, I screamed into my shoulder, trying not to let the guards hear my distress and pain. When she set them, I cried. When it was over, she held me in her arms. I cried even more as this was the first form of comfort I had gotten in quite a while.

We huddled together for warmth. As I started to drift to sleep, I began to think of the picture of Roe that Sauer took from me. I had memorized every hair on his head, the distance between his dark eyes, the shape of his nose, the curve of his ears, the stubble on his chin. I thought of every detail, painting an image into my mind that no one could take away from me. I wanted to see him again. I had to see him again. I had to survive this hell long enough to see his face and hear his voice once more.

I fell asleep dreaming of Roe.

I wandered aimlessly, passing by several of the men who were sporadically sprawled out across the farmhouse and the fields. I was looking for a spot to rest for the evening. After the day's events at the crossroads, I needed a place to sit and hopefully calm my nerves.

I had watched as the group was attacked by ambushing Nazis, killing several of our men instantly. We were missing several men, Randleman included. I couldn't stop wondering and worrying about him, praying that he was okay somehow.

As I walked near the edge of the field, I stopped. I turned around, getting ready to head back to the farmhouse to be closer to the men for safety, I saw the shadow of a man standing a few feet behind me. I froze and felt my body tense.

"Jane?" a familiar voice asked, clearly confused.

I swallowed, trying to place the voice in the heat of the moment.

When the man approached me, I released a breath I hadn't realized that I was holding. "Gene. You scared me."

"What are you doing out here?" he asked, stopping inches from me.

I felt the warmth from his body as he stood so close to me, and it was inviting. I felt calmer in his presence. "Sorry, I just lost track of how far I'd walked."

He nodded. "Easy enough to do."

I licked my lips. "I was about to head back, if you want to join me?"

He gave me a curt nod and walked beside me towards the house. He asked, "How are you holding up?"

I shrugged. "I'm worried about some of the men that are still missing, to be honest with you."

"Yeah..." his voice trailed off.

I studied his face and realized that he shared my thoughts. "What do you think about all of this?"

"I was thinking about going out with the men to find Bull."

I stopped walking, mouth agape. "What?"

He turned to me and repeated, "There's some men willing to go back and bring back any of the men who were left behind. I was thinking of going with them."

"What if something happens to you?" I asked. I felt a wave of emotions wash over me; fear, worry, panic, anxiety, but then I felt like I shouldn't be feeling any of these things because it was his job to be a soldier...I couldn't be selfish in asking him to stay with the rest of the group for safety purposes...especially since he was a medic.

He saw the struggle in my mind and approached me, placing his hand gently on my shoulders, giving them a small squeeze. "Nothing's set yet. It's just talk right now."

I examined his eyes, hoping for a glimmer of hope to his words, but I was beginning to doubt him.

"Come here..." he said, leading me to a small haystack. He motioned for me to sit down beside him. When I sat down, he wrapped his arm around me, pulling me closer to him. "You know that I'd never do something that would make me never come back to you, right?"

I glanced up at him. "I know. I'm sorry. I just...don't know..."

He peered up at the night sky. "It's amazing, isn't it?"

"What's that?" I asked, looking up at the stars with him.

"No matter where you are in the world, it's the same sky," he said calmly, then added, "Just more spectacular depending on where you are."

I blinked away from the sky to look at him.

"I used to watch the stars when I was a kid. Each one had a name, a story...a purpose," he stated. "Each one had a memory attached to it. There have been some that have gone dark and never seen again, but those are the ones that I remember the most."

"Why is that?" I asked softly.

"Because for the time that I knew them, they had given me something that only they had to offer. Nothing could take that away from me," he replied. Turning to me, he whispered, "Nothing can take me away from you, Jane...nor you from me, if you truly believe that we are meant to be. Distance doesn't mean anything, because in reality, we're always together, under the same sky, the same stars...As long as you don't burn out, we'll be together in the end. You just have to believe and have faith."

I stared into his beautiful dark eyes and felt my heart warm by his words. When I felt his soft lips on mine, the whole world stopped and all my fears melted away.


	20. Eavesdrop

I felt a sharp jab in my side. Prying my tired eyes open, I found Marta laying next to me, twitching in her sleep, her right elbow jabbing me in my ribcage. I shifted slightly, giving some space between us. The moment I moved, Marta bolted upright, blue eyes wide with fear.

I blinked as I sat up next to her. "You okay?"

It took her a minute to register what I had asked. Turning towards me, she relaxed. "Sorry. Nightmare."

I nodded. "It's okay."

She rubbed her hands down her face before shifting in her place uncomfortably.

"What's wrong?" I questioned.

"I have to pee," Marta admitted as she squirmed in her place. "Do you think they'd let me out to pee?"

I shrugged. "Doubtful."

She chuckled. "You're probably right."

I motioned to the corner. "I thought there was a bucket over there. Might as well put it to use."

She crawled over to see what she could find. Sure enough, there was a small dented water bucket laying on its side in the corner of our shed. She set it upright and started to unbuckle her belt.

I turned away to allow her a bit of privacy. I rubbed my cold hands together, feeling the soreness of my fingers, but happy that they were at least straighter than they were before Marta had fixed them.

After the familiar sounds of the belt buckle were heard, Marta stated, "It's your turn."

I glanced over my right shoulder at her approach. "I'm fine. Thanks though."

Marta shrugged and sat back down, leaning up against the wall. "What do you think they'll do with us?"

I shook my head. "I stopped guessing a long time ago."

A moment of silence swept over us but Marta broke it first. "My boss won't be happy if I miss my deadline."

My eyes widened in disbelief as I turned to her. "What?"

"My boss...he's going to be mad if he finds out that I-"

I cut her off. "You're worried about your job?"

She met my mismatched eyes with confusion before realizing what she had said. "Oh, I see. You think I should be more worried about my current situation rather than losing my job, right?"

"Well, that'd be the normal reaction to our situation," I remarked.

She licked her chapped lips. "Your boss wouldn't fire you if he found out that you were a prisoner, unable to fulfill your duties? Don't you have family who depends on the money?"

I nodded. "Of course I do. But I don't think my boss knows anything about the situation here...at least...I don't think he does." I was suddenly starting to get confused and worried.

"Who do you work for?" she asked me.

"The Times," I replied. I wondered what my parents would think if the money I was making suddenly stopped coming. Would they think that I was dead? Would they even care, especially with how things were the day that I left?

She whispered, "The Times?"

I nodded, suddenly turning my gaze back to her. "What?"

She sighed and released a short chuckle. "Seriously? That's who you work for?"

I furrowed my brow at her. "Yes..."

"You really are just a photographer?" she asked.

I tilted my head at her. "What are you-"

She whispered to me, "I'm using the photographer gig as a cover for my real job."

"Which is?" I asked, barely hearing the words escape my lips.

Marta leaned closer and whispered back, "I'm a spy for the Resistance."

My mouth fell agape and I leaned away from her, eyes wide. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Suddenly, it all made sense. They were looking for someone, a woman, who claimed to be a photographer, but was really a spy. Not just any spy, but one for the very organization that could topple over the entire Axis movements. This was serious.

Before I could ask her any more questions, the door to our shed flew open, blasting us with frigid air. The guards stood there, guns aimed at us. "You. Out."

Marta and I exchanged looks before she stood up and headed out into the cold. The door slammed behind them, leaving me to mull over the latest developments.

"This is John van Kooijk. He's with the Dutch Resistance," Nixon introduced. Standing next to him was a slender man with a wide smile on his face. I took pictures of him as well as the rest of the people of Eindhoven. I didn't want to focus all of my shots on this man because I knew what the ramifications would be if he was exposed. It was better to just take one photo and move on, as if everyone here was just another happy person being liberated.

I felt a hand grab my elbow and I turned to see Roe standing behind me. "Come with me."

I followed him through the busy and crowded streets to a spot out of the way. We watched as Lt. Peacock continued to try and get the men moving. I turned to Roe. "What's going on?"

"We got word that there are German forces running around Eindhoven. We have to get to the bridge before they do."

I glanced back to the Dutch Resistance man and studied him. I asked, "Did he tell us that?"

Roe looked over to where I was looking. "I believe so. Honestly, I don't know exactly. I don't ask questions."

"Maybe we should be," I mused. "At least then we'd be better equipped to handle certain situations."

Roe smirked. "It's war, Jane. It's not supposed to be easy."

I shook my head. He was clearly missing my point, but I wasn't about to discuss this with him, especially not here. We knew enough to know that most of these people were in support of us being here, but there were plenty that would rather help the Germans. It would be impossible to know which was which.

I asked, "What do you think of the Resistance?"

Roe cleared his throat. "I'd probably do the same thing if the roles were reversed."

I studied his face. He was clearly uncomfortable discussing this issue...but I couldn't decide if it was because of where we were physically or if it was a generalized feeling of unease. Either way, I dropped the subject.

As he pulled me through the crowds towards our objective, I heard violent sobs. I peered over the crowd as we passed by to see several women being forced to their knees. Their hair was being shorn off, much like sheep would have been handled. They sat there, being humiliated but accepting their fate. I stopped and pulled my hand from Roe, who stopped to see what I was doing. Quickly, I took a few pictures of the scene from my spot. I wasn't sure how much of these photos would turn out, but I had to try.

Roe pulled at me again, urging me to stay close to him. I watched the faces of the women disappear behind walls of jeering men and women, even children. Their faces would haunt me for the next few days.

I was beginning to worry about Marta. She had been gone for a while. I worried that perhaps Sauer had gotten the information he was looking for from her. If that was the case, would he think that I was in cahoots with her? Would he believe me now if I told him that I was just a photographer? Would he just kill me to keep his location and plans secret from the enemy?

As I sat there on the cold floor of the shed pondering what was to come next, the door opened again, and standing before me were the same guards that had taken Marta. "Out."

I slowly moved towards the door. The taller guard grabbed my right forearm and yanked me out, causing me to stumble and fall into the cold snow. I slowly stood up out of the snow bank, hearing the voice behind me say, "Hurry up."

I followed the shorter one into the house, all the while being pushed from behind by the taller one. When we reached the dining room, I saw Sauer in his spot at the table, Lange behind him, and Marta sitting in a chair, beaten and bloody. Her eye was swollen shut. I gasped at the sight of her.

The soldiers pushed me forward, forcing me to sit in my usual spot at the table. I couldn't take my eyes off Marta. I was worried for her.

Sauer motioned to the food on the table. "Eat, please, both of you."

I shifted my gaze from Marta to Sauer. He began eating, glaring at us for not immediately following his orders. He added, "It may be challenging for you, Marta, to eat, and for that, I am sorry, but you left us no choice."

Instead of replying, she spat blood towards Sauer. Lange moved so quickly that it took my brain a moment to process what was going on, but he had reached Marta in two steps and backhanded her so hard, her blood spurted out in my direction as she fell to the floor hard. I felt her blood hit my right hand that sat on the table. Hard hands grabbed my shoulders, keeping me from moving towards Marta. I didn't dare move, but my eyes widened in fear of what was to come next.

Sauer cleared his throat, motioning to the men holding me in my chair to release me as he spoke, "You're lucky your blood didn't make it to my plate, Marta. Consider this a warning that you'll only get once." He motioned to Lange to pick her up and place her back in her chair. She flinched out of his reach, but was forced into the chair.

Sauer stated, "I have to admire the strength you ladies have. It's quite impressive."

I turned my gaze back to Marta. She was clearly in a lot of pain. I wondered what they did to her.

Sauer continued, "Eventually, we will have to come to an impasse. I'd really would rather that we agree to help one another out before we reach that point. I don't like seeing either one of you in pain."

Marta released a small chuckle. I glanced over at Lange and Sauer, afraid that her laugh would cause more damage for her. Amazingly, neither moved or acknowledged her.

"Now, if you wouldn't mind, I'm running out of patience," Sauer admitted. "What can I do to help you tell me the truth?"

He looked at me, waiting for a response. I forced myself to utter the words, "I've been telling you the truth..."

He looked over at Marta. She could barely open her mouth to say, "I told you all I know."

Sauer smirked, dabbing his mouth with his napkin. "I know a liar when I hear one, Marta."

I furrowed my brow at him.

He stood up from the table. "Apparently, you haven't learned your lesson. That's unfortunate. Truly."

He motioned to the soldiers and they stepped forward, grabbing Marta from her chair. They escorted her out of the room, leaving me alone with Sauer and Lange.

I tensed as I glanced between the two of them, afraid of what was going to come.

Sauer approached me, dropping his napkin onto the table. "What about you, Jane?"

I looked up at him. "What about me?"

"Help me by telling me what you know, and I promise you this nightmare will end for you," he stated.

I shook my head. "I've been telling you the truth."

He pressed his lips tightly together. "Hmm."

I waited as he walked away from me. He scooped up a folder from the opposite end of the room that sat on a decorative table. He held it up for me to see. "Let's review, shall we?"

He tossed the folder in front of me. I didn't move to open it. I knew what he wanted to know. The same questions, expecting a new answer.

When he flipped the folder open, he pointed to a picture of Nixon standing next to a thin man. I blinked at the photo, trying to hide any form of recognition.

Sauer tapped his finger on the image and asked, "Do you know who that man is?"

I leaned in to get a 'better' look and said, "No."

He replied, "This man is part of the Resistance."

"Is he?" I feigned.

He nodded. "You took one photo of the man. So perhaps you truly don't know who he is. However, you took a couple pictures of these women here." He moved the top picture aside to show a couple that I had taken of the women collaborators who were getting shorn. "Why would you take more than one photo of these horrific acts?"

Images of the prison camp nearby flashed before my eyes. He spoke of these women being humiliated as horrific, yet there was proof of something worse just a few miles or so away that truly reflected those words. I chose to stay quiet.

Sauer moved the images aside and asked, "Who is this?"

I looked at the next picture. It was Renee. My heart ached at the image of her. Unwillingly, tears fell from my eyes.

Sauer drew a sharp inhale. "You recognize this woman. Is she a friend of yours?"

I blinked away the blur of the tears away, willing myself to stop crying. I nodded, whispering, "Yes, I know her."

"You know she's dead, right?" Sauer blurted out.

I jerked my head up to meet his gaze. My heart shattered into a million pieces. I had a suspicion that she might have died that day, but I also hoped that I was wrong, that she had escaped the church.

Sauer stated, "I'm sorry that I have to be the one to tell you. I thought you knew."

I swallowed hard, knowing that I was playing into his game. "Why are you doing this?"

He sighed. "I'm not doing this to you. Don't take it so personally."

"But you are doing this to me..." I countered. I regretted speaking up, but it just happened. He was provoking a reaction out of me, which is what he wanted. It was suddenly a lose-lose situation for me.

I was shocked when he replied, "I know it feels like I am doing this to you, for personal reasons, but believe me that if I had my choice, I'd be somewhere else, doing something that really matters."

I swallowed, hoping that I was about done with this conversation.

He moved back over to the picture of Renee. "How well did you know her?"

"Briefly," I stated. Honestly, I didn't want to talk about her. I refused to tell him anything about her. I loved her too much to do that to her, even if she was dead, she deserved her privacy and dignity.

Sauer moved the image away and asked, "What's going on here?"

I looked down at the image and saw men riding on tanks. I scanned the faces of the men in the picture, but couldn't place any of them. "I don't know...looks like men from an armored division moving out."

Sauer pressed his index finger over his lips, studying me for a moment. He sighed. "I am unsure if I believe much of what you've said to me."

"It's the truth," I rebutted.

He nodded briefly before adding, "What do you know about Marta?"

I furrowed my brow at him. "I don't know anything about her."

"Please. You two are inside a very small shed together. You're telling me that you don't know a thing about her?" he asked sharply.

I shook my head. "Sorry, but I just met her a day or two ago. I don't know anything about her."

"So what is it that you two do in there all day and night?" he asked.

"Mostly sleep and huddle together for warmth," I stated. It wasn't too far from the truth.

"Has she said anything about what she does for a living?" he asked.

I shook my head. "No."

"Lies," he muttered, pushing himself away from the table.

I shook my head again. "No, it's not."

Lange took a step forward which caused me to lean back into my chair.

Sauer turned on his heel. "I need to know what you know! I need to know what she knows! I need you to tell me!"

"What?" I asked, confused. I couldn't decide if he was asking me for help.

"I'm telling you right now, if you can convince her to tell me who she is, or at the very least, tell you who she is and you tell me, then I promise to deliver you back to your company," he pleaded. I almost believed him, but I knew that if he was telling the truth, there'd be no way that he'd just hand me back over to the men. He'd kill me first.

I swallowed. "I don't know anything about her."

Sauer grew angry. He walked past Lange, giving him a short nod. Lange approached me, arm cocked back behind him.

I didn't even feel the blow.


	21. Losing Control

"Jane? Jane!" I heard the muffled cries. Once the ringing in my ears subsided, I blinked my eyes open. "Jane? Jane?"

I grimaced as I slowly tried to push myself off the cold floor of the shed. I let out a pained groan as I sat down. "What happened?"

"You've been knocked out for a while...are you okay?" Marta asked as she examined my face, clearly concerned about me.

I blinked a few times, trying to get my vision to normalize. "I think so."

She furrowed her brow at me as she looked me over. I did the same to her. Her face was pretty mangled. It was amazing to me that she was even able to speak.

"What happened to you?" I asked.

She stopped fussing over me. "More of the same."

I looked at her. "Are you sure?"

She sobbed. "It was bad this time, Jane...I don't know if I can take much more."

"What happened?' I asked again.

She stifled her cries. "They beat me for a while, then pulled a tooth out..."

I could tell which side from the puffiness of her jaw. I recalled the amount of blood she was spitting out at the table earlier and kicked myself that I didn't put two and two together. But how would I have even thought that they'd do this?

She sighed. "What happened to you? What'd they do to you?"

I shook my head. "I don't know...they asked questions again, then Lange... I guess knocked me out."

Marta glared at me. "That's it?"

I was taken aback by her shift in attitude. "What do you mean, 'that's it'?"

"He hit you once and you're knocked out?" Marta asked, seemingly angry that I wasn't hit more than that. Her face fell and her voice softened. "I'm sorry. I'm just..." she sighed. "I'm just tired of this...of answering his questions and getting tortured. I don't know how much longer I can take this."

I nodded slowly. "I understand, Marta. But we can't turn on each other. That's what he wants. He's close to breaking...and we can outlast him. I know we can. It's just going to take some time."

"Maybe for you," she stated. "You're being honest with him. You might be able to get out of here alive."

I swallowed. "I don't know about that."

"What do you mean?" she inquired. "You've got nothing he wants."

"Except the location of where he is, who he is, and what he's looking for," I pointed out. "He can't let me live with that sort of information."

She thought about what I was saying. "Maybe you're right."

We sat there in the cold, no longer speaking about it. I couldn't shake her attitude from earlier. I could understand being frustrated with the situation, but I'd never take it out on her, no matter how mad I was. Something didn't sit well within me about her anger. I worried that she might take Sauer up on his offer, tell him whatever she could to get him to free her, and I worried that the blame might shift towards me. I wanted to think that I was wrong, that she'd never do that to me, but I didn't know her - not really. I tried to chalk up the feelings I was having towards her as the strain of being prisoners, being tortured, and feeling that breaking point draw closer, but I wasn't sure what to believe anymore. I'd never felt more confused that I did at this moment.

The next morning, Marta and I sat on opposite sides of the shed. We hadn't spoke since the night before. No one had come for us in the morning as they had before. I was drawing closer to the edge of paranoia. There had to be a reason that Sauer wasn't grabbing one of us for more questions.

Marta broke the silence. "I want to apologize to you."

I looked over at her. Her bruises were less swollen as they had been, but the color was still pretty severe. The swelling in her jaw was noticeably less too. I waited for her to continue.

"I shouldn't have treated you that way. I'm so so sorry," she cried. I saw the tears fall down her bruised cheeks. "I just don't know what else to do...I'm scared."

I nodded in agreement. I was scared too, but I had reached the point of feeling like I wasn't going to survive this war.

The thing is, you're already dead. Once you learn that, then you can act like a soldier should.

The words echoed in my head. One of the men in Easy Company had repeated them to his friends when he regaled them with the story of his conversation with Speirs. For whatever reason, the words were resonating with me. I was connecting with them on a whole new level. Maybe I had reached my breaking point in believing that I was already dead. The men had to already believe that about me...I couldn't blame them if that was the case. I had been missing for so long, it was only natural for them to think that I was.

Then my mind wandered to Roe. If he believed me to be dead, I wondered what that would do to him. Would he move on or would he still be thinking of me?

"You're thinking awfully hard about something, Jane...and something tells me that it isn't about forgiving me," Marta pointed out.

It broke me from my thoughts. "Sorry." I looked up at her. "Of course, I forgive you, Marta. Everyone has a different breaking point. We all handle our stress and fears differently. I get it. Just know that I would never do anything that would hurt you," I stated.

She smiled a crooked smile, tears streaming down her face. "Thank you. And I you."

I forced a smile on my face, trying to be reassuring. I asked, "Did you have any ideas on what we can do moving forward?"

She shook her head. "I'm not sure there's much else to do, but ride the wave."

I nodded at her words. We both realized that there was nothing more to be done except pray that we'd survive somehow.

She cleared her throat. "What are you thinking about?"

I blinked at her. "Honestly, I'm wondering if those that I know...knew...are thinking about me. I'm wondering if my parents think I'm dead. I'm wondering what will happen if everyone thinks I'm dead and suddenly I come waltzing back into their lives."

She nodded in agreement. "I know what you mean. I wonder the same thing, even though I haven't been gone as long as you have been." I furrowed my brow at her comment. She added, "Just guessing since you've been here longer than me, and with the state of your fingers when I found you, you had to have been here for a while."

I smirked, realizing how silly I was being. Sauer wanted us to turn on each other. I couldn't fall prey to his games. "Yeah...I don't know how long I've been gone. I've lost track of the days."

Before Marta could keep her conversation going, the door open and we were once again, engulfed in the freezing air. It felt like it was getting colder outside. The soldiers pointed to me and motioned for me to come out. Reluctantly, I did as ordered.

They pushed me along the path towards the house. Small flakes of fresh white snow began to fall from the sky. I shivered at the breeze that blew through the town. A big storm was coming and it wouldn't bode well for us inside that small shed.

As I crossed the threshold into the house, I walked from habit towards the dining room. I was stopped by the guards and redirected back to the office where Utzig used to be. Confused, I entered and looked around.

The entire room felt different. When Utzig was in charge, the room was well guarded by men, papers and photos littered the desk, and the fire was always roaring behind him. Now, it was cold and clean, not a piece of paper to be found. I suddenly began to wonder what had become of Utzig.

Sauer entered the room and motioned to the chair that sat before the desk. I was nudged forward and followed the order to sit, even though I didn't want to. Sauer sat on the edge of the desk before me. He crossed his arms over his chest and asked, "So...what have you learned?"

"That a storm is coming?" I retorted. I didn't know what he wanted me to say to such a random question.

He smirked briefly. "I was asking for an update with our friend, Marta, Jane. Did you happen to learn anything new from her?"

I furrowed my brow at him. "No."

"She hasn't said anything? Have you even bothered to ask her?" he questioned.

I shook my head. "Look, I don't know what you want me to say. I'm not in the habit of being a rat."

He let loose a hearty laugh. It was kind of terrifying to see him show that much enjoyment from something I said. He stifled his laughter and looked me dead in the eyes. "Do you think that she would do the same for you, should I ask her the same question? Do you think she'd turn on you to save her own skin if given the opportunity?"

I shrugged. "She might, she might not. I really don't know. It's not like we're friends."

He seemed unfazed by my comment. "I guess we will just have to see what she does when I ask her." He stood up and walked around the desk and opened a drawer. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it. He offered one to me, but I shook my head. "I'll tell you what I'll do, Jane. If you were to get some answers from Marta for me, I'd make sure that you survive this place."

I shook my head. "I don't believe you."

He raised an eyebrow at me. "I'm giving you my word."

I scoffed. "Your word is about as useful as bull in a china shop."

He chuckled at my terrible attempt at a metaphor. He asked, "What can I do to get you to trust me?"

I didn't hesitate. "Nothing."

"I've been good to you lately, Jane. I haven't had Lange beat you, I've kept you out of harm's way-" he stopped to take a drag off his cigarette. "I've even given you food and drink. Maybe I should move you back into the house before the storm hits so that you're nice and warm. Would that help?"

I shook my head. Inside, I knew what that would mean in Marta's mind, or at the very least, what I would think if it happened to Marta in my place. I would think that she had accepted the offer and was going to pin whatever nonsense he wanted to hear on my shoulders just to save herself. I wouldn't give him the luxury of taking advantage of me.

He sighed. "I guess I can't blame you for being leery of me, Jane. I'd probably do the same to you if I were in your shoes." He motioned for Lange to leave the office, leaving just the two of us in the room. I immediately tensed up, unsure of his next move. "To be honest with you, Jane. I don't want to be here. I was ordered to be here. I don't enjoy doing this to people. I have a reputation, one that I must live up to..."

I narrowed my eyes at him. He was spinning a lie...or was he? His face seemed genuine. I was beginning to become confused, unsure what to believe. A part of me - a rather large part of me - was hearing his words and knowing that it was a lie, an elaborate act that he was putting on for me to lower my guard so that he could take whatever he wanted from me. But the other smaller part of me wanted to believe his sincerity that he was showing me on his face and tone of his voice. There was a whole new war brewing inside my head and I wasn't sure what to do anymore.

He must have seen it on my face because he stood up and said, "Just think about it, Jane. I'd hate for us to have to escalate this further if we can just help each other out. I really don't want to hurt you anymore."

He motioned for me to walk with him towards the door, and once there, the guards took me back to the shed, where the air was colder and the snow was falling harder and in bigger clumps than it had been when I first entered the house.

Back inside the shed, I sat down, huddling against my knees for warmth. Marta asked, "What was that all about?"

I could see her looking me over for new cuts or bruises, but there were none to be found. I swallowed as I said, "He wanted to talk."

"What did you tell him?" she asked, clearly concerned.

"Nothing. I have nothing to say to him," I replied.

She tilted her head at me, almost as if she didn't believe me. "Then why do you look conflicted?"

I sighed. "I'm not sure what to believe anymore. He's telling me one thing, turning around and saying something different, and I can't tell what's the truth."

She nodded. "Be careful, Jane. This is a common trick used to get information from prisoners. They will bait you and friend you, make you feel safe. The moment you do is when they get everything from you. He's the enemy, remember that!"

Maybe she was right. My mind was scattered. I was beginning to fear that Marta was my enemy and that perhaps, Sauer was not, even though I knew that wasn't true. I couldn't find myself in the waves of confusion. I could feel myself slowly going mad.


	22. Under My Skin

That evening, the wind blew through our shed, howling as it blew through the bullet holes. It was the coldest we had experienced since being imprisoned inside. We huddled together as close as we could, shivering as we wrapped our arms around each other, hoping for some warmth to emerge.

Marta and I didn't speak. It took too much energy to even try. I could hear her teeth chattering against each other as she rested her head on mine. Then I heard the sound of cracking. She unwrapped her arms from me and reached into her mouth, pulling from within the remains of a cracked tooth. We sat there staring at her tooth fragments. We exchanged worried glances before she threw the tooth in anger across the shed.

I closed my eyes and tried to think of warmer thoughts. The sun. The beach. Hot showers. Soup. My stomach growled. Instantly, the memory of Roe's kiss came rushing back to me. I felt calmer, warmer, safe.

The next morning, we pulled apart from each other. The ice and snow had almost welded us together. Once we were able to separate from one another, we tried to think of ways to better protect ourselves within our shelter. We had a broken pail that was our latrine, and some remnants of hay that was long rotten and frozen to the floorboards. Outside of our clothes, we had nothing more to offer up to a solution. The best we could do was keep moving during the day to build up heat that way. After attempting to keep active for roughly five minutes, we could barely do a minute longer. We just didn't have the strength or energy to keep going.

Marta's bruises had yellowed. Her jaw had healed from the tooth extraction that Lange did to her. She was beginning to lose weight from lack of food. Her eyes were darkening and she was looking sickly. Much like what I expected to see if I were ever to look in a mirror.

Marta's voice cracked as she spoke, "What do you think they're going to do with us?"

I shook my head. "I don't know. It's been a while since they've come for either one of us. Maybe today they will."

She nodded. "I've been expecting it."

The way she said that made me wonder what she was up to. I asked, "What are you planning?"

She shrugged. "I don't know yet, but I think we need to try to escape."

I wanted to tell her that that was a mistake, but kept quiet.

She continued, "I think we might have a chance when they try to put us back in here." She moved closer to me and whispered, "I think that I could steal a knife from the table and stab one of the guards, you grab the rifle and kill the other, then we could run into the woods."

I blinked at her. "I've not fired a gun before."

"Are you serious?" she sighed heavily before stating, "Fine, you steal the knife and stab the guard."

I shook my head. "I don't think I can."

"Now is not the time to go soft on me!" she hissed. "We have to do something, Jane. We can't keep rotting in this God forsaken shed forever!"

Just as she finished her statement, the door opened. The sun was out and it blinded the both of us as it poured in. Blinking to adjust to the brightness, the guards motioned for us to exit. We followed the order.

I glanced about the area. There seemed to be more guards out than usual. I peered over at Marta to see if she was seeing the increased number of guards or not, but she was looking straight ahead. I was afraid that her plan would get both of us killed.

We entered the dining room and everything was different. There was no food laid out on the table. No silverware, no glasses, no placemats. Lange stood beside Sauer as usual, but things had completely shifted from what we had grown accustomed to seeing.

Sauer looked between the two of us. "I'm sure you're wondering why there's no food today." We remained silent as he took a step forward. "You see, I think I've been too easy on you. And that changes today."

Something on the small decorative table by the far wall caught my attention. Laying on top appeared to be a variety of tools. It felt like what you pictured when you thought about torture. I swallowed hard thinking about all the pain we were about to endure.

Sauer explained, "If you would just tell me what I want to know, you'd be escorted outside, given a ride to the nearest town, and let go."

"And if we don't?" Marta bravely inquired.

Sauer walked over to the far table and picked up a nasty looking knife. "Things would get worse for you in short time." He turned around, caressing the knife in full view of the two of us. "I'd rather it not come to that."

I glanced over to catch Marta's gaze, but she was staring straight at Sauer with eyes full of hate. I worried about what she was about to do.

Sauer asked, "Who'd like to go first?" He eyed the two of us before pointing the knife in my direction. "You. Let's go."

The men pushed me forward towards the table. They stripped my jacket off my back, discarding it to the floor. I cringed thinking about how far they were going to take this. I watched as Lange walked around behind me, then I felt a heavy boot behind my knee, knocking me to the floor in pain. I cried out as I slumped down by the table. Lange picked me up with ease and dumped me onto the harvest table we used to eat on.

Lange pinned me on my back as I laid out on the tabletop. Sauer approached me, leaning over me, studying my face. Sauer asked, "Now, tell me. What are you doing out here?"

My breathing hitched within my chest. "I told you...I'm just a stupid girl who became a photographer with The Times."

He released a sharp exhale before lifting my shirt to expose my stomach. "Did you know there are several places you can cut into the human body without damaging anything vital? Those cuts won't kill you, not at first, anyways, but it'd do just enough to make you wish you'd die, make you feel pain you've never experienced before, making you wish you could make it all go away..."

I swallowed, worried of what was going to happen. I had been honest with him this whole time, but he was adamant in his belief that I was lying to him. My brain was working overtime in trying to come up with a plan to make him believe my words.

He asked, "I'm begging you, Jane. Tell me the truth..."

"I am..." I cried softly, bracing for the first cut.

Sauer looked up at Marta and said, "I want you to watch. Hold her legs down."

"I'm not going to do that!" Marta shouted at him.

I heard several rifles in the room cock. I blinked the tears away as Lange stood over my head, pinning my arms down. Marta was forced to the end of the table where my feet were. She looked at me with sympathy, but shook her head.

Sauer stated, "If you do not do what I'm telling you to, I will, in fact, put a bullet in your head."

Marta reluctantly held my ankles down onto the table, while a guard had a luger pointed at the back of her head. I could feel her hands trembling on my ankles.

Sauer looked back to me. "Have you changed your answer?"

I blinked and felt cold tears running down my temples. "I'm telling the truth."

"Pity..." he whispered as he moved his hand down my side, quickly slicing through my skin with his curved blade. I released a shriek of pain, wriggling under the firm grips of those holding me down.

Sauer asked, "Who do you work for?"

"The Times!" I cried.

Another cut two inches from the first one. Another scream of pain escaped my lips.

Sauer asked again, "Who do you work for?"

"The Times!" I shouted back at him. Another cut three inches away from the second cut; another scream emerged from me.

Sauer sighed. "I have all day, Jane. How much pain are you willing to put yourself through?"

Sobs were racking my body as I could feel the hot blood pouring down my exposed cold skin. He grabbed a hot towel and wiped the blood away. The towel burned my skin, enveloping me in all new pain sensations. I groaned at the feeling.

"Why are you here?" he asked. "Who do you work for?"

"I already told you!" I shouted. "I am just a poor girl who went to work for The Times-"

He cut me off by jamming the knife into my lower right quadrant of my side. A hard scream left me as I bucked in pain on the table. He slowly, torturously removed the knife from me.

Marta shouted, "Stop this! Please! She doesn't know anything!"

Sauer looked at her. "Do you want to switch places, Marta? Are you feeling like the hero here?"

Marta's lips trembled at the thought of being in my place. She stared at me, sending me silent apologies before shaking her head.

Sauer nodded. "That's what I thought." He turned to me and whispered into my ear, "Don't worry, she's still next."

Sauer moved over to the small table against the wall and asked, "I'll ask you again, before I make this very uncomfortable for you." He turned around to show me a small pair of pliers in his hands. "Who do you work for, Jane?"

I choked on my words as I spoke, "The Times..."

I felt the cold steel of the pliers enter the first cut and I screamed.

"Again!" Sauer shouted at me.

I screamed, "The Times!"

I felt the pliers open the wound, tearing my flesh. Blood poured out on its own as he did so. Agonizing screams overtook me.

Sauer placed a finger inside the opened wound, digging inside. I bucked on the table, screaming in agony, unable to keep myself together. He was right. I wanted to die. I just wanted it to be over.

He removed his finger from inside the expanded cut. I felt the hole close and the pliers removed. He wiped me down with the scalding cloth before darkness engulfed me.


	23. Coming Apart

I woke up, face down, in the cold shed. I could barely move, but the searing sensation that lingered on my stomach and sides, reminded me of what had happened. Any amount of breathing or moving caused me great pain. I groaned as I remained on the cold ground.

I felt hands on me. A familiar voice asked softly, "Jane? Oh, God...are you okay?"

I inhaled sharply as I felt Marta helping me sit up. "What happened?"

"You passed out. They dragged you back here," she explained.

"What about you?" I asked.

She shook her head. "He hasn't done me yet."

I nodded, grimacing in pain as I cradled my sides.

Marta asked, "Why didn't you tell him the truth about me?"

My eyes flitted up to hers. "Why would I do that?"

"To stop the pain," she stated.

I shook my head. "I'd never turn on you, Marta. You're too important to what's going on out here. Besides, that's not what he's asking me. He's asking me who I work for."

"I know, but...by telling him who I am...it would cease your pain. He'd probably let you go," she stammered.

I shook my head again. "I doubt that he would. Besides, I'm not one to turn on friends."

She cried. "I'm scared, Jane. I don't know if I can handle that kind of torture."

"Maybe that's why he hasn't done it to you yet. He knows you'll break before he touches you," I pointed out.

She thought about it for a moment. "You're right. He's playing mind games with us."

I asked, "What's going to happen now?"

"Sauer said he'd do this again soon...I'm not sure when, but probably once he knows you're awake," she stated.

I groaned as I slid back down to the floor. Marta rubbed my shoulder in comfort. I just wanted this to be over already.

Marta mused, "I wonder if you pretended to still be passed out if they would give us more time..."

I sighed. "Maybe..."

"We should at least try," she stated. "Just try to sleep. I'll keep watch through the hole over here."

I closed my eyes, trying to think of anything but the pain, but it was proving challenging.

Marta whispered, "Someone's coming!"

I kept still, eyes closed, hoping that maybe with any luck, Marta's plan would work and I would get a little more reprieve to rest my wounds.

When the door opened, the guard asked, "Is she awake?"

Marta shook her head. "No, she isn't."

The guard stepped inside and kicked my wounded side. I screamed out in pain, balling up into the fetal position. Marta shouted at him, "What are you doing?"

The guard backhanded her as she tried to get him away from me. He replied calmly, "She's awake now...Sauer wants you two. Let's go."

I felt hands grab me, forcing me to my feet. I hobbled towards the house, Marta behind me. When we entered, we were back in the too familiar scene as before.

Lange grabbed me, putting me back onto the table. He held my arms down again, and Marta was held at gunpoint once more, forced to hold my feet down.

Sauer was by the small table, deciding which tools he wanted to use this time. He turned after making his choice. "Now, where were we?"

I swallowed. Being stretched out on the tabletop once more was stretching the wounds open again. My stomach was exposed again and Sauer asked, "Shall we continue?"

I sighed, almost defeated. "I work for The Times..."

"We're going to try a different question today, Jane," Sauer stated. He moved over me so that he could stare into my eyes. "Who's the man in the photo?" I furrowed my brow at him. I wasn't sure which photo he was referring to anymore. He added as he walked away, "I've brought you the picture, in case you had forgotten which man." He came back to the towering spot above me, holding a picture up for me to see. It was the one picture I had taken of Van Kooijk. I swallowed.

"I don't know who he is," I replied.

Sauer tossed the photo aside and it glided to the floor. I spied Marta's eyes flutter over to see the photo. When it became clear that she recognized the man in the photo, she whipped her head over to meet my gaze, mouth agape.

Sauer asked, "Who's the man in the photo, Jane?"

I shook my head. "I don't know."

The torture had begun. My voice would break with each scream until my throat was raw. I wished for death to come and take me, but that wouldn't happen to me. Not today. No matter how many times I begged for death, it wouldn't come.

Sauer had changed up his tactics this time around. He gave me just enough time in between sessions to recover, so if I did pass out from the pain, it wouldn't be long before I was awake again. He warned me that if I were to die on the table, he'd bring me back to do it all over again.

No matter how hard he tried to break me, I still never said who was in the photo. I never mentioned Marta's secret. And I kept telling the truth about who I worked for, who I was, and why I was there.

I could tell just how frustrated Sauer was growing with each new cut, new opening, and each new tool he brought to the table, some of which were heated in the scalding fire before being used on me. It felt like forever on that table, but when he finally got fed up with me, he ordered me back to my prison.

Through the entire torture, I would cry tears of pain, feel the blood running out of me, and my soul dying a little each time.

Marta had come back to the shed with me, crying tears of fear. She paced in the shed, worried that I was going to die on her. "Jane...you have to tell him something that he wants to know," she sobbed.

I groaned as I laid on the floor of the shed, clutching my wounds. "He'll kill me anyways, Marta. Why bother?"

She fell to her knees beside me. "You don't know that."

"Yes, I do. Each time he's talked about letting me go, it's being hidden with the truth...he'd kill me before he hands me over to his enemy...If I were dead, he wouldn't have to worry about me telling them where he is, what he did, what he wanted to know...there's no way that I'd leave here alive."

Marta sniffled, wiping her tears on her jacket sleeve. "Jane...he's going to keep doing this to you until you give in...I can't keep watching this."

"You're going to have to, Marta. This is what he wants. You know this," I grimaced as I tried to turn to look at her. "He's breaking you...this is your torture."

I could see my words making sense to her, but I could also see her breaking point nearing. I couldn't blame her, really. I don't know how well I would do watching someone close to me be tortured while I held them down, hearing their screams echo in my ears, watching their blood pool out around them, for hours, day after day. She was stronger than me, but it was taking a toll on her, this much was clear.

I feared what would come next, for both of us.

The next day was silent. Sauer didn't come for either one of us. We weren't going to argue with that decision. Marta did her best to help me. She tried to clean the wounds as best as she could, but it was proving too difficult to do in our situation. She warned me that it looked like it was getting infected. I grimaced at the thought of dying from an infection before too long. It seemed like all was grim for us - for me - but then we heard shots ring out.

My eyes flew open and I tried to sit up, but Marta held me down. She whispered, "It sounds like it's coming from the woods on the hill."

"What do you think it is?" I muttered through gritted teeth. What I didn't have the heart to tell her is that she was putting her hand on my wounds to keep me down, sending pain throughout my body.

She shook her head. "I don't know...maybe your guys or my guys found us?"

I swallowed, hoping and praying that was the case. The gunfire had only happened that one time, so it diminished any hope of them being from one of our groups. My heart sank.

Marta helped me sit up. I cried out as I rested against the wall of the shed. "What are you going to do?" I asked.

Marta sighed. "I think I need to have a chat with Sauer. I think I might be able to end this. Once and for all."

"What are you planning, Marta? He'll kill you..." I warned.

She shook her head. "It doesn't matter now. I know what I have to do."

I tried to stop her, but she stood up and raised her fist to bang on the door. "Marta, don't."

She banged on the shed door several times, ignoring my pleas. The guards opened the door, guns aimed at her. She raised her hands above her shoulders. "I want to talk to Sauer."

The guards exchanged looks before motioning her out. They slammed the door behind her, allowing the darkness to consume me once again.

It felt like forever before the door to the shed opened. Standing in the doorframe was Lange. I squirmed a little in my spot, but with the amount of pain I was feeling, I stopped trying to get away from him. It was pointless to fight anymore.

He approached me, and carefully and gently picked me up. It was a scary feeling since he had inflicted so much pain on me to have been gentle. He carried me into the house where the warmth washed over me like a blanket.

Lange carried me to the table in the dining room, but this time, there was a soft blanket on top, a pillow for my head, and tools set on the table by the wall, but they weren't torture tools. Instead, it looked like tools I had seen in Roe's pack. There was even a bowl of fresh water and clean rags set out.

My voice was barely able to produce words, but I managed to croak out, "What's going on?"

Lange didn't speak, but his eyes met mine. He had a wave of sadness, empathy, and concern wash over them. It was there one moment, and gone the next. It made me worry about what was coming.

Sauer walked in and nodded to Lange. "Thank you. I'm glad you got everything ready for me."

Lange returned the nod and stepped aside, still quiet.

Sauer put medical gloves on and asked, "How are you feeling?"

"What are you going to do?" I croaked.

"I'm going to help you. Clean you up, make sure you don't get an infection," he admitted.

"Why?" I whispered. I didn't know what to believe anymore.

He replied, "I was given a choice. Information for your life."

I furrowed my brow at him. "Where's Marta?"

He busied himself with cleaning my wounds as he replied, "She traded her life for yours."

I felt tears stinging my eyes. I told her not to do that. I told her that he was breaking her. I warned her what would happen if she were to say anything to him.

He added, "She told us valuable information, confirmed that you are who you say you are, and asked that you be treated before infection set in, in exchange for what she knows." He turned to me and said, "And here we are."

I pushed back my tears. I had to stay strong and in my right mind in case this was another ploy of his to get me to say things that he wanted to know. I didn't know what was truth anymore.

He set to cleaning my wounds without asking me anymore questions. He didn't even talk more about Marta to me. He just continued with his task of fixing me up. With each dab of clean water, it burned. With each cleanse from alcohol, made me scream out in pain. With each stitch he put into me, I cried tears, ashamed that I was weak.

When he finally finished his work, he took the gloves off. He sighed and stated, "I've had the men prepare the room upstairs for you. Clean sheets and bedding. Get some rest, Jane. We'll talk tomorrow."

Lange reappeared by my side and carried me up to what used to be my room before Sauer and his malice had arrived. It felt like home the moment Lange placed me on the bed. I had been gone far too long, and yet, it was familiar to me.

As Lange closed the door behind him, I exploded into a ball of sobs. Memories had rushed back to me. Memories of Styne, Utzig, and Fritz. Memories of my childhood home had come back, allowing me to recall details of my bedroom, the backyard that I used to play in, the smells that came from the kitchen. I recalled my parents' faces.

That night, I laid awake in my bed, staring at the ceiling. For once in what felt like a lifetime, I was warm. I wasn't in pain. I wasn't calling out for death. I was still stressed and anxious about the days to come as well as the unknown.

I felt myself drifting in and out of sleep. When I heard scuffling outside my door, I suddenly felt more awake than exhausted. I heard the door creak open slowly and then footsteps carefully approach me. Just as I was about to bolt upright, I felt calming hands on me with a familiar voice whisper to me, "It's all right. It's me."

I relaxed by the familiar sounds of Marta's voice. I smiled, remembering her voice. "I'm sorry that I failed you."

"Ssh. You didn't fail me," she told me. "I did what I had to, to save you."

I cried. "You died because of me."

"I had to end your suffering, Jane. I don't hold it against you," she cooed.

I placed my hands over my crying eyes. "I should have stopped you."

Marta shushed me, caressing my hair gently. "You know what needs to be done now. You're strong and brave enough to face him now."  
"I need you," I sobbed. "I'm scared."

"You'll be okay. You've always been okay, Jane," she said. "I learned my strength and courage from you."

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" I bawled.

"Never worry, Jane. I'm never far from you," she stated, her voice fading away from me. "Do what needs to be done."

I heard a soft thud and jolted in bed. I glanced about the room, and nothing was amiss. I struggled with what had happened. Did I dream her? Was I imagining her out of guilt? I repeated her words in my head. Do what needs to be done. I wasn't sure what that meant, not really. She had sacrificed herself to save me, to make sure that I didn't die from infection...she was giving me a chance to save myself. I just had to find the right time to do it.


	24. The Mask Slips Away

When morning arrived, I was still shaken up by the dream of Marta. I worried that my guilt would keep bringing her to my mind for the rest of my life. I feared that I would forever be haunted by the demons that I was forming by being in this war, in this prison...I feared the rest of my life if I continued to have these vivid dreams.

I stood up from the bed and carefully walked over to the window. I was still weak, but felt stronger after having spent the night in the warmth of the house on the bed. Outside, business as usual for the guards. Nothing out of the ordinary seemed to be happening, but I had noticed several large artillery weapons set up, trucks rearranged, and fortified sandbag walls in place. That was a significant change from the last time I had seen the lay of the town. I wondered if something was coming.

The door to my room opened, and I drifted my eyes over my shoulder to see Lange standing in the doorway. He nodded to me and I acknowledged him by returning the gesture. I hobbled over to him, and he let me pass, motioning me to head downstairs, a place where I knew where to go simply from habit.

I crossed the threshold to the office where Utzig used to be. It still felt surreal to me that he wasn't in the office anymore. I always wondered where he went, if he was still alive, or if Sauer had him executed. I prayed that he was still alive, somehow, somewhere.

Sauer motioned to the chair. "Please. Rest."

I sat down and waited for him to speak.

"How are your wounds?" he inquired.

I nodded. "They're healing. Thank you."

He smiled briefly before asking, "I'm assuming you've seen what the town looks like now?" I nodded but remained silent. He continued, "We've had word that there are Allied troops approaching this town. Apparently, they want to retake it from us."

I raised an eyebrow at him. I wasn't sure why he was telling me this.

He stated, "I want to try and work together, peacefully, as Marta bartered for, in exchange for your safe return back to your friends."

I swallowed. He'd never used the phrase "safe return" before. He always spoke of sending me back to my men, but the way he said it always inferred that he'd be killing me first. This was a different approach, one that I still wasn't sure if I trusted.

"Marta explained quite a bit to us that was of use. I'm hoping that you could delve more into what we've learned," he stated.

I swallowed hard. He was still hoping to hear me say that I wasn't who I said I was. I feared his wrath should I continue to say the truth...but lying this late in the game would certainly be the death of me anyways.

He added, "Marta knew the man in the photograph. Do you know who he is?"

I thought it over. It still made more sense to me to tell the truth. "No. I don't know who he is." It wasn't necessarily a lie. I'd never met the man. I'd only heard through several people, and an eavesdropping comment about who he was. It might not have even been him that they were talking about. So I stayed with what I was saying all along.

Sauer sighed. "Marta said that he was part of the Dutch Resistance. Where was that picture taken?"

I shook my head. "I don't recall."

Sauer clasped his hands together, bringing his index fingers to his mouth. He thought for a moment before asking, "Maybe you could tell me all the places you do remember being?"

I shook my head. "Honestly, I feel like I've been here for a lifetime. I don't remember being anywhere anymore."

"That's a shame," he stated. "Truly."

I cringed when he said 'truly'. Usually when he said that, pain came shortly afterwards.

He lowered his hands from his face and questioned, "There were some men here before I arrived that were going against orders. Do you know who I am referring to?"

I was growing increasingly on edge. These were all new questions, and questions that posed a great risk to not only me, but several men who were trying to end this war to go home. Men who weren't as evil as the one who sat before me playing me for a fool.

"Do you recall any men who were not as they should be? Anything out of the ordinary?" he asked.

I shook my head. "I didn't really speak to anyone."

He smirked. "I have a lot of witnesses here that would say otherwise, so don't lie."

"Am I on trial here?" I inquired. "Seems like I've been put on a trial for being a prisoner."

He let loose a laugh. "That's one way of looking at it, I suppose. I'm just trying to get to the bottom of some things before we release you to your men out there in the woods."

"You have no intention of letting me go, do you?" I braved the question.

He sighed. "Honestly, in the beginning, no. But lately, I feel that you truly are a worthless person, not just to me, but to this war, to your men, and most certainly, you were worthless to Marta." Those words burned as he spoke them.

"I was nothing but loyal and faithful to Marta! How dare you!" I reacted. I instantly regretted the words the moment I spoke them. I fell right into his trap. There was no going back at this point.

The Cheshire grin on his face proved to me that I had just confirmed a dark secret to him without thinking. He leaned forward asking, "What secret were you so loyal to her for holding on to, Jane?"

I released a defeated sigh as I leaned back into my chair. "There was no secret."

He stood up, walking around his desk. "You're too late to try and save face this time, Jane. Might as well come clean."

Before he had a chance to ask more from me, shouts were heard outside. Men were running about, the sounds of explosions echoed nearby, shaking the windows in the panes of the house. Both of us, wide eyed, listened and looked around to see what was going on.

Sauer grabbed my shirt collar and pulled me along with him to the window. He slammed me hard against the wall as he glared out into the town. The slam against the wall knocked the breath out of me, and caused pain in my wounds. I feared that the stitches were torn.

He studied the scene outside. He stated, "It would appear that your men are making their way down into town, trying to retake it from me. They're not going to win, Jane."

"I wouldn't be too sure about that, Sauer," I stated. He glared into my mismatched eyes. I saw anger, not fear. He believed that my men would fail. I feared that he'd kill me before they retook the town.

Sauer asked, "Tell me what I want to know. What was Marta's secret?"

"I'll die first," I replied.

He nodded. "I can make that happen." He punched me in the exact spot of my wounds, causing me to cry out. He slammed me upright into the wall.

I could hear the battle raging on outside, explosions from the mortars echoing nearby, rattling glass all around us.

Sauer demanded, "Tell me!"

Another blow landed on my wounds, causing me to slide down the wall. I glanced up in pain to see him cocking his arm back again. I raised my hands up in a feeble attempt at defending myself.

"I told you she's stubborn," a familiar voice said behind Sauer.

Both of us turned to see who had joined us.

Marta stood in the entrance of the office, arms crossed over her chest. I swallowed, breathing her name out, "Marta..."

She gave me a pained smile before saying, "Give it up already. She's never going to say what you want to hear."

Sauer stood up and started to walk towards Marta with balled up fists. I tried to stop him by grabbing his legs. He broke my hold and kicked me in the side, causing me to crumple to the floor in agony.

He reached Marta and replied, "You're right. She's not speaking. Do you really think she knows nothing?"

Marta looked away from him and back to me. "She was being honest about being a stupid girl."

I furrowed my brow at her words. I looked between the two of them, confused. I couldn't believe my eyes when I watched the two of them kiss each other passionately. I felt betrayed. I felt like I was in a nightmare that was finding new ways to torment me. When they pulled away from one another, I asked, "What the hell is this?"

Sauer stated, "I don't like getting my hands dirty, Jane."

I laughed at the remark as I recalled him dirtying his hands plenty while torturing me on the harvest table in the next room. He didn't seem to have an issue doing that much dirty work, so I didn't buy the beginning of his speech.

Sauer reacted to my laugh. "I honestly don't, Jane, but you forced me to do so. I thought if I brought Lange in to rough you up, you'd give in and tell me everything you know. When that didn't work, I thought I'd take away your clothes, your shelter, expose you to humiliation and the weather. But you proved to be resilient even to that." I carefully watched his interactions with Marta as he motioned to her and continued to speak, "I thought perhaps, I should introduce you to someone who was who we thought you to be, in hopes of you growing closer to each other, sharing secrets with one another..."

"And we did," Marta interjected. "Didn't we, Jane?" She walked over to me and crouched down before me, adding, "We did share a bond together. Formed a relationship, shared some secrets."

Sauer knelt down next to Marta and said, "You just wouldn't let go of your loyalty to your friendship with her, even when she told you to...you just couldn't give in to save yourself." Sauer chuckled as he looked between me and Marta. He added as he stood up, "I'll admit, it pained me so greatly to have to torture my wife to get to you-"

"Wife?" I blurted out, confused. Memories of what I had gone through with Marta washed over me in a drowning ocean of emotions. I watched her get beaten to a pulp, I watched her bleed from the mouth from having a tooth removed. I saw the broken tooth she removed from being exposed to the cold weather with me. I remember everything that she went through, the good and bad, the times she helped me...none of this was making sense, yet everything was falling in sync. I had doubted her at times, but passed it off as her being scared and stressed...but now, I realized that she had slipped up in her performances.

As these memories were raging on in my head, almost in sync with the raging war outside the house, Marta smiled. "By George, it looks like she's piecing it all together."

My mouth hung open as I looked up at her. "Why...?"

She shrugged. "We needed you to confide in someone. But you just wouldn't say much of anything..." She turned to Sauer. "I think she was telling the truth about her memory issues. It's the only thing that makes sense as to why even I couldn't get her to talk...not even when I came to see her in the middle of the night."

Sauer looked down at me. "It's a shame, Jane. I was hoping this was going to turn out differently for all of us...but...unfortunately for you...wishes are horses." He turned back to Marta and said, "Get the car ready. We'll sneak out as soon as I'm done here."

Marta looked at me and asked, "What are you going to do with her?"

I thought I heard genuine concern in her voice, but laughed it off inside as yet another manipulation on her part. I couldn't believe her act anymore than I could his.

He stated, "I'm going to finish this. I want to make sure that we have enough time to escape, and if things go South, I want to make sure a car is running for a quick exit."

Marta nodded, giving me one more sad glance before heading out the back door to get the getaway car ready, leaving me alone with her equally psychotic husband.

Sauer grabbed my jacket collar and said, "It's not how I wanted to see this end, you know."

"I don't give a shit what you wanted," I snapped.

He laughed before throwing me across the room.

The land caused great pain, and I felt some of the stitches break, but I wasn't planning on going out without a fight. I was weakened, but I was also running on adrenaline. I grabbed the lamp and swung it at him, aiming for his face. He blocked the hit with his arms, yanking it away from me. When I wouldn't let go, he kicked me in the side, causing me to unintentionally drop it, falling back into the wall. He grabbed me with the intention of killing me written all over his face when Marta blew the car horn.

The door to the house was kicked in, and Sauer took off running out of the house, jumping into the car, just as it sped away at top speed.

I glanced up at the men who broke the door down. Images flashed through my mind with a name of the man who started down the hallway in pursuit of Sauer. I shouted after him, "Speirs! Let him go!"

When Speirs watched them drive off, he turned back to me. I was afraid of him getting killed if he were to chase after them. I didn't want to lose anyone else to that madman and the bitch of a wife he had.

Speirs lowered himself to my level and looked me over. He saw the massive amounts of blood seeping through my jacket. He unzipped it and saw just how bad of shape I was in. He turned quickly to the men by the door. "Get the medic now!" The men took off running, shouting for the medic. Speirs turned back to me. "Hold on, Jane. Hold on..." I felt my eyes growing heavy and hands on my shoulders, trying to shake me awake. "Hold on, Jane...help's coming."


	25. Fix Me

I opened my eyes to bright white light. I was warm. I felt no pain. I felt safe; comfortable. I tried to look around the bright room and saw the outline of a figure standing nearby. I allowed my eyes to adjust to the bright light, asking, "Where am I?"

The person turned around and said, "You're all right. You're at an aide station."

I blinked a few times, glancing about. Suddenly, I bolted up right, but hands stopped me from sitting up too far, pushing me back into bed. I shouted, "Speirs!"

"Calm down! You're going to pull your stitches again if you're not careful," the woman stated as she tried to reassure me back.

I suddenly felt the ache on my side where the new stitches were placed. I asked, "Where's Speirs?"

The nurse replied, "Your men brought you here about a three days ago."

"I've been out for three days?" I asked, in shock.

She nodded. "You're been through a lot from the looks of you when you came here. It's been touch and go for us to make sure you'd stay alive. Your fever finally broke last night."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "Where are the men now?"

She shook her head. "I'm sorry, but I don't know."

"Where is this aide station?" I inquired.

She sighed. "You need your rest." Without giving me any more answers, she walked away from me. I felt pangs of remembering how things were with Sauer, suddenly anxious of why she wouldn't tell me where I was. I feared that Sauer, or even Marta, would suddenly appear to finish what they started.

I glanced about the room in which I was in. There were several wounded men laying in beds around the room. Most were badly wounded and covered in gauze. Others were just recovering and resting. None of them seemed to be concerned that something might be amiss...but then again, none of them were under the thrall of the mind games I had endured.

The man laying in the bed next to me leaned over. "Hey. Hey!" I turned my attention over to him. He asked, "What's your name?"

I thought about ignoring him, but decided that maybe I could get answers from him. "Jane."

He smiled. "Jane. Lovely name. I'm Henry."

I offered a half smiled, clearly forced.

He asked, "What happened to you?"

I looked down at my bandaged sides. The gauze was fresh, but slightly stained with blood. I looked back at him. "It's a long story."

"I've got time," he stated.

I stared at him. I wasn't willing to talk about what happened, especially with someone that I just met, someone I didn't know, and couldn't even begin to trust. I turned away from him.

"Hey, come on. Don't be that way," he started. "I'm a nice guy, I promise. You don't have to tell me what happened. It's a bad habit of mine to be nosey. My mama always told me that I was too curious for my own good, that's why it killed our cat."

I furrowed my brow, turning back to him. "That's not how that saying goes."

He smiled. "I know, but it really did get our cat killed."

I chuckled at the remark. It was a silly thing to laugh at, but it was the first time I had laughed in what felt like forever.

He smiled warmly at me. "That's a nice laugh. Are you a nurse?"

I shook my head. "No. I'm not."

He waited for me to continue, but when he realized that I wasn't going to, he motioned with his hand for me to continue. "So, you are...?"

I examined him. He was about my age. Brown hair, green eyes, specks of freckles that gently kissed his facial features. I couldn't see any wounds right off. I asked, "Why are you here?"

He blinked at me for a second and suddenly it dawned on him. "Oh, you mean, like in this place? Not the war in general, right?" He lifted the sheet to show his right leg in a cast. "Stupid joke gone bad. Jumped off the top of a tank into what I thought was a small pond...turns out it was really just a big puddle."

I laughed at the imagery. He smiled and laughed alongside me. He made me feel calm, safe. I shook that feeling away from me. The last time someone made me feel that way, I was betrayed.

He saw the sudden change in my demeanor. "Hey, you okay?"

I stared at my hands, wondering what to do or say.

He spoke softer. "Hey. Look at me."

I forced myself to look over at him. His green eyes offered sympathy, empathy. He leaned over as far as he could in his bed without falling out. He reached his hand towards me. "I'm not going to hurt you."

I swallowed hard, looking at his outstretched hand, but not taking it. I couldn't even look him in the eyes anymore.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watched as he threw his covers back from his bed and shifted his legs over the edge. He stood up and hobbled the two steps over to my bed's edge. He looked down at me, extending his hand once more. "I'm not going to hurt you, Jane."

I looked at his hand again, then up at him. He was offering a reassuring smile to me. I took his hand. He gave it a gentle squeeze.

"Nice to meet you, Jane," he said, still holding my hand in his.

I nodded in acknowledgement. He finally released my hand. He sat down on the edge of my bed, asking, "So, who do I get to look out for?"

Confused, I furrowed my brow at him. "What?"

He motioned to my wounds. "Who did that to you? I want to know who to look out for so that I can kill them for you." I tensed and he saw it. He quickly added, "I'm kidding. I'm clearly in no position to go looking for anyone, especially out of avenging you. Not that I wouldn't do it if I could..." He must have seen my face because he quickly stated, "I'm doing a terrible job at impressing you...I'm sorry, I'm not normally this stupid."

I thought for a moment before saying, "Actually, I should apologize to you."

"Me?" he asked, cocking his head to the side. "Why should you apologize to me?"

I tore my gaze from him, staring down at my hands. "I've not been around people in quite some time...I guess I just forgot how to-"

"How to talk to people?" he asked. When I nodded, he added, "Don't worry about it. Most people aren't worth talking to anyways."

I smirked a little at the comment. He smiled warmly at me.

One of the nurses happened to walk down the room towards us. She scowled at Henry and me. "What do you think you're doing out of bed?"

Henry looked at me and smiled, giving me a quick wink, before turning to face the angry nurse. "Sorry, I thought it was my free time."  
The nurse was less than amused. "You don't have free time, soldier. Bed, now."

Henry gave her a half salute with two fingers. "Aye-aye, ma'am." He hobbled back over to his bed and sat down. When the nurse pursed her lips, waiting for him to lay back down, Henry nodded. "Fine, fine. You win." He laid back in bed, covering himself with his blankets. Once the nurse was satisfied, she walked away from us, but not before shooting us disapproving glances.

Henry chuckled. "Be careful of that one. She's not overly friendly."

"I've noticed," I admitted as I continued to watch her walk out of the room.

Henry asked, "How long do you think you'll be here?"

I shook my head. "I don't know. I'm trying to find my company."

"You belong to a company?" he questioned, seemingly stunned by my answer.

I nodded. "Yeah...I've...well, I've been separated for a while..."

He studied my face and was connecting the dots. "Right..." He licked his lips and asked, "What division were you in? Maybe I can help you find them."

I turned to him and said without a shadow of a doubt, "Easy Company, Airborne division."

That evening, the nurse came back to clean the wounds and switch the bandages to a fresh pair. I laid back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, cringing with each wipe she did. It wasn't as if she was being gentle, but she was being thorough. I could feel tears seeping out the corners of my eyes. My hands were grasping the sheets next to me, balling them up as I held a tight grip. I felt a hand rub the top of my left hand, causing me to look over to see who had joined me - who was comforting me.

Henry looked down at me with pure concern across his face. He took my hand away from the mangled sheet and held it tight with both of his. He whispered, "You're okay. I'm right here with you."

I swallowed and blinked tears away. I felt a wave of embarrassment as I caught him looking at the wounds that I had as they were being cleaned and dressed. He stared at them for a moment longer than I would have liked, but I didn't say anything. He turned his gaze back to me, offering me a sympathetic smile.

When the nurse was finally finished with her task, she eyed Henry before leaving. He stood by my side, holding my hand, brushing my tears away from my eyes, but never saying a word. I expected him to ask me about the wounds again, but he didn't. All he did was stand beside me and comfort me as I silently wept.

I woke up in the middle of the night to see Henry talking to a few men on the opposite side of the room. He was motioning over to me a couple of times, but they were too far away for me to hear anything. I was too exhausted to stay awake to ask him questions for when he finally came back and I fell asleep.

Morning had come and Henry was sitting up in bed, reading a book. He looked over at me as he noticed me stirring. He smiled and put the book down. "Hey sleepyhead. How are you doing?"

I rubbed my eyes with the palms of my hands. "What time is it?"

He replied, "Almost noon."

I sighed, dropping my hands to my chest. "I'm exhausted."

He chuckled. "Tends to happen. How are you feeling?"

I shifted uncomfortably in bed. "Sore. And uncomfortable. I need to get out of this bed."

Henry hobbled out of his bed and over to me. He stated, "Might not be a good idea yet."

I looked at him. "Why's that?"

He looked pained as he said, "Your wounds...they're not looking very good. Probably best just to stay in bed. I might be able to get them to prop you up a bit, so you're not just laying there all day."

I smirked. "Sitting up is better than this."

He laughed. "I'll see what I can do. Hold tight."

I watched as he hobbled across the room, looking for the nurse. He took a step outside of the room, and was met with a couple angry nurses. They kept pointing him back to his bed, but I could tell he was asking them about me because they glanced over at me. One nurse finally threw her hands up in defeat and walked away, while the other kept pushing Henry gently towards his bed.

Henry climbed into his bed and the nurse turned to me. She pointed to me, saying, "I'll be right back for you."

I swallowed. Memories of being told that I was next in line for torture hit me. The familiar voice of Sauer echoed in my mind. Flashes of the guards leading me to the shed or to the house seared my vision.

I felt hands on me, shaking me gently from my flashbacks. "Hey!"

Breaking me from my flashback, I glanced up at Henry who was holding my shoulders and clearly worried for me. "What happened?" I asked.

He furrowed his brow. "I was about to ask you the same thing."

I released a shaky breath. "I-I..."

The nurse came back, arms full with pillows. She saw Henry next to me again and shouted, "I will not tell you again!"

"Sorry, she was-" Henry began to speak.

I cut him off. "I was trying to sit up. He was stopping me."

The nurse shook her head, dropping the pillows on the table that sat between me and Henry's bed. "I swear, the two of you need to be separated. Don't tempt me to do it." She started to sit me up gently and began placing the mountain of pillows behind me, allowing me to sit up for the first time in a while. "How's that?"

I nodded. "Good, thanks."

She glanced between us and shook her head as she walked away from us.

Henry sat in his bed and asked, "What was that? Are you okay?"

I shrugged. "I don't know."

"Flashbacks?" he questioned.

I thought for a moment and admitted, "It might have been. I've never really had flashbacks before."

Henry nodded. "From what I've heard, little things set them off. Smells, actions of other people, things that have been said..."

I asked, "How do you make them stop?"

He shook his head. "I think if you know how to do that, you better share with the group. A lot of these guys have it. Most have night terrors instead...either way, it's not pretty."

I kept thinking back on things. How would things have turned out if I had just let Anna help me with my memory when she offered? Why did I have to be so stubborn about it? Why did I think it was a good idea to come over here as a photographer? Why did I think that I would make a difference? If I had stayed back home, do as I was told, I wouldn't be in this situation - I wouldn't have been tortured. Maybe I should have run when I had the chance - tried to escape when I could... I began to wonder what ever happened to Styne, Fritz, Utzig, and I wondered where Sauer, Lange, and Marta were. Questions were swirling around in my head like a tornado, more and more "what ifs" were flying by.

"You're thinking about something very seriously," Henry stated, breaking my concentration.

I blinked my attention back to him. "Sorry."

"Want to talk about it?" he asked. "I've been told I'm a good listener."

"Except when to stay in bed, it would seem," I pointed out.

He let a hearty laugh out. "Very true." He cleared his throat, becoming serious for a moment. "Seriously though, if you want to talk about it, I'm here."

I nodded. "I appreciate that."

"But?" he added.

"But..." I began. "I'm not even sure what to say, where to begin, or anything of the sort."

He shrugged. "I've heard that it's best for all stories, if you start at the beginning." He quickly added, "Only if you want to. I don't want to force you."

I didn't respond. I wasn't sure how to. I wasn't sure that anyone would understand what I had been through. He saw the wounds, maybe he would, but then again, would he judge me for not fighting back - not escaping or at the very least, trying to?

He must have seen the battle in my head about telling him my story, because he waved the idea off. "Don't worry about it. Some things are better left unsaid."

As he started to climb back into his bed, I asked, "What were you talking to those men over there about earlier?"

He raised an eyebrow at me. "Which men? When?"

I pointed across the room where he was last night and stated, "You were over there last night, talking to those men over there by the door. What was that all about?"

He covered himself with the covers. "Honestly? I was trying to find out where your company was."

I sat up a little too quickly, feeling the stitches pull. I eased back down and asked, "Did you find anything out?"

He nodded. "Yeah..." I could hear a hint of sadness in his voice. He added, "There was a guy here who was released a couple days before you got here. I think the guy's name was...Webster?"

I furrowed my brow, trying to think about which man was Webster. I couldn't place him. "Where was he going?"

Henry feigned a yawn. "I'm tired, Jane. I'll tell you tomorrow."

I watched as he rolled over and pretended to be asleep. I stared at his back, upset that he knew something but was keeping it from me. Maybe he didn't know, but wanted me to think he did. Or maybe he was afraid I'd leave him behind and rush back to my men. I wasn't sure what his motives for not telling me were, but I glanced over my shoulder to see that the men he had talked to were still there. I could always ask them when the time is right. That would be the card in my back pocket to use later.


	26. My Escape

The next morning, the nurse began her task of cleaning and redressing my wounds. I gritted my teeth as she worked, asking, "How bad is it?"

She didn't look away from her task. "It's not pretty."

"How much longer will I have to be here?" I asked, trying to relax through the pain, but it was not proving to be an easy endeavor.

She sighed. "I don't know. It might be a while. You've been beaten up pretty badly, and you keep pulling the stitches out."

I thought about my next question for a moment. "Do you know where my company is?"

She released an agitated sigh, giving me a glance out of the corner of her eye. "I don't know, and even if I did, I wouldn't be allowed to tell you until you were released."

"Why would you wait that long?" I asked. I felt a sharp burn and inhaled sharply.

She stated, "Because it keeps you here until you're ready to go back, instead of rushing back and getting yourself killed because you're not ready."

I decided to change my tactic on getting my answer of where the men were. I asked, "When can I start walking?"

She stopped cleaning and looked at me. "Why?"

"It's rather boring sitting in bed all day. I'd like to stretch my legs," I admitted, annoyed.

She softened and explained, "If you take it easy, you might be allowed to slowly pace around the room." When she saw my face light up, she reiterated, "And I mean, slowly."

I smiled at her. "I'll take slowly." I waited patiently for her to finish wrapping me up.

When the nurse was finished, she walked away from me and I slowly sat up in bed. I pulled my shirt up to see the fresh bandage around my torso.

"How's the wounds?" a familiar voice asked. I looked up to see Henry swinging his legs over the edge of his bed, hobbling over to me. "Looks good from what I can tell."

I lowered my shirt. "I guess. I haven't seen it."

"How are you doing?" he asked, clearly wanting to forget about last night's conversation.

I smiled a fake smile at him. "Been fine."

He narrowed his green eyes at me for a second. "Right."

"How are you doing?" I asked. I was watching the wheels in his head turn, trying to figure out what I was up to.

"I'm fine, thanks for asking..." he stated, showing his confusion in his voice.

I nodded. "Good, glad to hear that."

He started to hobble away. "Okay...well, I better get to my physical therapy, if I ever want this cast off."

I waved. "Have fun."

He gave me a short wave, still wondering what I was up to, as he hobbled away from me. I waited until he was out of the room before slowly sitting up and tossing my legs over the edge. I stepped down out of bed, feeling the cold floor beneath my exposed toes.

I padded over to the end of the room where the men Henry spoke with where. They were playing a game of cards when I stopped next to them.

"Hey, look who's finally up and walking around," one of them said, nudging the other to look at me.

I licked my dry lips. "Henry said you guys knew Webster?" I worried that I might have said the wrong name when they exchanged glances.

The first one nodded. "Yeah, yeah. We know Webster. Author in the works, he said."

"Not sure anyone would want to read what he has to write about though," the second one stated with a laugh.

I waved that aside. "Do you remember where he was headed upon his release?"

"Yeah...let me think..." the first said, lowing his cards, giving a clear act that he was thinking. He looked at his friend. "What was the name of that stupid town?"

His friend sniggered. "Haggis..." Clearly, the comment was an inside joke of theirs.

"Oh, that's right," the first stated. Turning to me, he said, "A small town called Hagenau. He found out the night before that his company was stationed there. He shipped out the next morning."

I nodded, repeating the name of the town in my head. "Hagenau...and do you think they'll still be there now?"

Both of them laughed. The first shrugged. "Who knows. It all depends on how quickly they are ordered to move out."

I felt my heart beating quickly. "Thanks." I started to walk away but stopped, turning to them. "And please, don't tell anyone I was asking."

They looked at me but nodded. The second asked, "Planning on making a dash for it?"

I smiled. "Something like that." I turned and headed back to my bed, probably more quickly than I should have, but I knew that my time was short. I didn't want anyone to know that I was asking about the location of the men, and I certainly didn't want Henry to think that I had any idea of where they were.

I felt silly. I felt like this was the one place that I shouldn't want to escape from, but for some reason, I was feeling the pressure to get out as soon as possible. I needed to get out of here and back to the men...back to Roe.

Thinking of Roe made me smile, but I could also feel the tears burning my eyes as they formed. I began to wonder if Roe was the medic who came to me when Speirs ordered one to come. If it was Roe, what did he think of my wounds? What did he think of me? How did he react to seeing me that way? How did he react to my being alive?

I worried that he had accepted me dead and moved on. It felt painful to think about. It would have been different if he had moved on with Renee.

Thinking about Renee broke my heart. Sauer told me that she was dead, but I hadn't heard anything else about it. I wondered if Roe knew anything more than what I did.

All this thinking made me realize just how important it was for me to return to the men - to Roe. I had questions that needed to be answered. My heart ached for a familiar hold. My ears longed to hear that familiar voice that my heart needed to be reminded of.

I made my decision to try and make my way to Roe and the rest of the men. Starting tonight.

That evening, I waited with anticipation. I watched and observed the nurses and doctors as they moved about during the day. I watched how everyone was as they headed to bed. Most read until they passed out. Those who were still awake were quietly playing cards with each other in the opposite end of the room, away from the door, playing by moonlight so not to alert the nurses.

I didn't speak to Henry much during the day. He knew something was up, but he kept it to himself. He was the one I had to worry about as I attempted this escape. He'd be the one to stop me. I couldn't let that happen. I had to think of a window of opportunity that would allow me to get away without him knowing or seeing. That was the challenge, especially since he slept three feet away from me.

He had been eyeing me all afternoon. I pretended to just be in good spirits, pretending that I was excited about being allowed to walk in the morning, but he had to have seen through the act. Surprisingly, he didn't say anything to me or the nurses. It made me leery to try an escape with such a watchful eye peering on me.

As I laid there in my bed, I watched the shadows under the door. I could see the shadows of those as they passed by or those that lingered by to look in through the window to see if we were all sleeping. I ran the plan in my head over and over again.

Wait for Henry to go to the bathroom as he always did.

Grab my jacket and shoes, put them on, and bolt.

It was a simple enough plan. A lot of this relied on being spontaneous because there was no telling when Henry would go to the bathroom. There was no saying how many nurses or other staff I would run into on my way out. I worried that I'd get caught just trying to tie my shoe laces.

Either way, I was determined. I had to try. The worst they could do to me is catch me in the act, hold me here another day before I could try again. If I were to get caught, I would just have to perfect the plan before trying again. This had to work. I had to get out.

I closed my eyes, pretending to sleep. After a few minutes, I heard Henry climbing out of his bed and hovering over me to see if I was really asleep. When I heard him walk away from me, I carefully peeked through my eyelashes to see how far he was. He stopped at the door and turned around to make sure that I was still 'asleep'. When I didn't move, he opened the door and walked out, closing it behind him. I watched the shadow under the door through semi-closed eyes. He was still standing on the other side of the door, almost expecting me to bolt upright. When I didn't do anything, he walked away.

I gave him a couple extra seconds before quickly sitting up and grabbing my stuff, throwing it on and forcing my boots on without untying them. I started towards the door as quickly as I could.

Once I reached the door, I peered through the window. No one was in the hallway. I opened the door, poking my head out and looking up and down the hall. It was empty. I thought this was too easy, but I wasn't about to give up because it felt like a trap.

I crossed the threshold of the hallway and started to dart down the hall towards the exit. My heart was racing as I neared the door. I could see freedom emerging with each step towards the exit.

"Where do you think you're going?" a familiar voice asked, just as a body stepped in between me and my freedom. I bumped into him but quickly pulled away so he couldn't get a hold of me.

Defensively, I backed up from Henry. "Let me go."

He looked at me with concern. "Where are you going, Jane? What do you hope to accomplish here?"

"I'm leaving," I admitted. "You can't stop me."

"Actually, I could," he stated. "You're in no shape to go anywhere."

I replied, "I'm fine."

He took a step forward, reaching for my wounds, but I backed up, trying to stay out of his reach. "Really?"

I raised my hands up in defense. "Please. Let me go. I just want to go back to my men."

Henry stopped moving for me and asked, "How are you going to find them? You don't know where they are."

I swallowed. "I'm sure I'll think of something."

"You're going to get yourself killed," he stated.

"Henry, please. I can't stay here," I admitted. "I have to go. You have to let me go."

Henry shook his head. "It's suicide, Jane."

"Stop telling me no...I'm not staying!" I hissed. I started to go around him, but he grabbed my arm. I twisted from his hold, only to have him grab my waist.

We struggled with each other until he and I ended up on the floor. He tried pinning me down. I felt like I was fighting Sauer all over again. The images flashed in my mind, making me fear about what was to come if I didn't fight back harder. I kicked and flailed at Henry, fighting him off me, getting his grip to loosen on me. I knocked him off me and tried to crawl away towards the door, but he grabbed my ankle, pulling me back.

"I don't want to hurt you!" he shouted at me.

I turned around, kicking at his hand. "Let go!"

He managed to grab both of my legs, holding them tightly. He worked his way up to me, pinning me down fully. I was immobile under his weight. He hissed, "Stop fighting me! I'm not your enemy!"

"You are if you don't get off me!" I yelled.

I could feel his knees tightening against my sides, one knee digging into my wounds, popping stitches. He didn't have his cast on anymore. It was the first time I had noticed.

"Where's your cast?" I questioned.

"I've taken it off," he admitted.

"What? Why?" I asked, trying to distract him long enough to get out of this predicament.

He scoffed. "Like you, I don't want to be here. Unlike you, I don't want to get myself killed. If I keep pissing off the nurses here, I'll stick around until the war is over. Then I can go home."

"You're faking your own injuries?" I questioned. "You're judging me for wanting to leave here, but you're sticking around?"

He shrugged. "Better than dying."

I sighed, relaxing under him. He eased his grip on me. I asked, "So, what's your plan? Keep me here with you?"

He shook his head. "No. I had every intention of telling you where your men were, but now...It doesn't seem to matter." He thought for a moment but added, "I don't want to see you get yourself killed, Jane. I've seen things that you'd never understand or believe. I don't want you to go through what I've gone through. Please, just stay here with me. We can go home together when this is all over."

I looked into his green eyes and nodded. "Okay..."

He stood up, pulling me up with him. Once I was on my feet and he started to hold my hand, leading me back to our room, I yanked it away and started for the door. I heard him curse under his breath as he chased after me.

I was within reach of the door, but he slammed it shut just as I was about to open it. He grabbed my shoulders aggressively, whipping me around and slamming me into the closed door. I let out a pained gasp. My side was warming up, which meant that all my stitches had ripped.

He hissed, "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

I kept calm, asking, "Have you ever been tortured?"

He blinked at me, moving his face slightly away from me. "What?"

I repeated, "Have you ever been tortured?" When he didn't reply, I stated, "It's something that you go through that completely changes you. You become a different person when you're through with whatever it is they do to you. You're no longer who you thought yourself to be. You end up looking at life as a battle. You stop trusting people. You are alone...and no matter what happens, you decide the best thing for your survival is to fight until you've nothing left to fight for."

He scoffed. "You're staying you've been tortured?"

"I've seen things you'd never been able to dream up," I admitted, thinking about the prisoners that I took pictures of. "I've been in so much pain that you'd never last a minute without passing out." I thought about all the things that Sauer and Lange did to me. "I've been betrayed by people that I thought were my friends, only to realize that they were in on the torture." I thought of Marta in particular and how she manipulated me into believing that she was a friend, an ally. "I've been in freezing temperatures with nothing on my back, no blanket, nothing." My body ached as I remembered the frozen air and snow that I sat through for days. "I've gone without food and water until I started to melt away into nothing."

Henry loosened his grip on me, stunned at what I was telling him.

I added, "I'd rather die a thousand deaths if that meant that I could stop those around me from experiencing what I've gone through. I'd rather brave the war that's raging on outside if that meant that I got to see those that love me enough to keep looking for me...those very men that are keeping your sorry ass safe and sound here in this hospital...the same men that rescued me from hell." I stared Henry in the eyes and added, "I'd rather die than spend another minute here with you."

He furrowed his eyebrows, clearly upset and shocked by my words. When his grip lowered from me, I tried to open the door again, but he reached for me, trying to stop me once more. This time, I kicked him in his almost healed leg, hard. I heard the break. He crumpled to the floor in agonizing pain, clutching his broken leg.

I knelt down to him. "I'm sorry, Henry. Maybe another time, another memory, we could have been friends. But I have to go." I stood up and opened the door, knowing that my window to escape was slipping. I glanced down at him as I started out the door. "I'm sorry about your leg, Henry. At least this way, you can stay here until the end of war without faking it. Good bye."

I ran out of the building. Henry's screams of pain echoed behind me as I raced towards the woods, never looking back.


	27. Beyond The Stars

The walk through the woods was challenging. The only light that I had to use was the moon. I pulled my jacket closer around me as I walked. I suddenly realized how unprepared I was in my decision to leave. I had no supplies, no weapon...no idea which direction I was going and if it was the right one or not. The only thing I knew for certain was that I was free of that hospital. Free of anyone holding me against my will, no matter the circumstances.

My only hope now was to find someone, anyone, who spoke English and knew who I was looking for. I knew that it was going to be a challenge, but my first step was to go to the place that I last knew Easy Company to be; Hagenau.

I stumbled in the woods and tripped. Landing on my stomach, I felt the searing pain in my abdomen again. I cried out in pain, hissing as I felt my wounded sides. I could feel the wet blood under my shirt. I worried how bad I was going to be if I didn't find help soon.

I stood up and carefully tried to navigate through the woods. Thoughts of Roe came to mind. It was the driving force moving me forward. I had to see him again. I had to tell him that I was sorry for not remembering conversations with him. I had to apologize for how I was before I lost my memory, who I was now, and where I saw myself going. I longed to see him, feel him next to me...I needed to be with him again, even if it was for a short time.

I stumbled out of the woods, seeing a small village on the horizon, dimly lit up with light as the night waned on. With each step towards the village, I prayed that it was not occupied with German troops. If it was, I worried what may happen to me, if they would recognize me or at the very least, know of me. Would Sauer have sent word for the others to keep a look out for me?

As I neared the village, I could see the farmers rising. I watched as they lit their lanterns and headed out to the barns. This gave me hope as I knew that Germans wouldn't care about farming. I found the road and headed down the path towards the first farm.

When I approached the fence of the first farm, the wife of the farmer stared at me. She didn't seem happy to see me, nor did she seem angry. She just watched as I continued walking by. I got the sense that this was not the place to stop and ask for help or even directions.

By the time I got the sense that it was safe to ask for help, the family I saw had motioned to me to come to them. It was the first time in this village that someone had noticed me and took initiative. I carefully walked over to them.

The husband of the family looked at me. He thought of his words before managing to ask, "Are you well?"

I sighed a breath of relief. "Yes."

He asked, "Lost?"

I nodded. "Very." When it seemed that he was waiting for me to answer, I replied, "Yes, I'm lost. Looking for Hagenau."

Confusion swept over his face, but motioned to me to follow, which I did. He led me and his family back inside. He pulled a framed map down off the wall and showed me. He pointed to Hagenau and then followed the road all the way down for a while before stopping. The town he stopped at wasn't one that I could make out on the faded map.

I sighed. "That's a long way away."

He nodded. "I help."

"You don't have to do that. You have a family," I stated.

He shook his head at me. "I help. They understand."

I looked at his family, who smiled at me. "Thank you," I said to them. His family smiled back. The wife, the sons, and daughter seemed happy to help me. I looked back at the husband. He grabbed a few things and motioned for me to follow.

We stepped outside and towards the barn. He opened the doors and set to the task of getting the horse and carriage set up. I sighed, realizing just how daunting this task would be. Traveling by horse-drawn carriage was going to be faster than walking but it was going to take a long time for me to get to where I was going, especially if I was trying to catch up to my men before they would move on.

I glanced outside and noticed a Jeep approaching town. I muttered a little louder than I wanted, "Shit."

The husband heard me and saw my panicked face. I turned to him and asked, "I need to hide...do you have a place to hide me?"

He nodded and pointed up into the loft of the barn. I quickly climbed the ladder of the barn, climbing into the loft. I pulled the ladder up with me as I heard the Jeep stop in front of the man's house.

I lowered myself into the hay of the loft, praying that I wouldn't be caught.

The men climbed out of the Jeep and walked around the property. They approached the husband and glanced about the barn, clearly looking for something - or me. The taller man asked, "You live here? This your barn?"

The husband nodded. "Mine, yes."

The taller man continued to ask his questions, "We're looking for someone. Girl. Might have come this way."

The husband thought for a moment then surprisingly shook his head. "No. No girl."

"Did you see anyone in our uniform this morning? Maybe she passed by without talking to anyone?" the soldier asked.

Again, the husband shook his head. "No. No soldier. No girl."

"Are you sure? She's hurt pretty badly. We need to bring her back with us, make sure she's okay," the man stated convincingly.

"No. No girl," the husband stated again. He made it so convincing that I wondered if he had suddenly forgotten about me.

The soldiers looked around the barn. "Going somewhere?" the taller one asked, motioning to the carriage.

"Family visit. Joeuf," the husband stated, matter of fact.

The second soldier pointed up to the loft. "What's up there?"

The husband glanced over his shoulder up to the loft. "Mouse. Rat." I tensed at the words, praying he wasn't being serious.

The soldiers exchanged glances before heading back to their Jeep. Once they were in the Jeep and on their way back to wherever they came from, I waited a little longer before lowering the ladder back down and making my descent.

Once I was at the bottom of the ladder, I saw that the husband of the nice family had the carriage ready to go. He glanced down at my sides, but said nothing. He motioned to the carriage and climbed in himself.

I sat in the back of the carriage where the loose hay bales were. I prayed that this long trip to Hagenau wouldn't take forever.

The husband started off down the path and headed out of town. As we left the town's limits, I spied the town's name. Messancy. I kept it in my head to look up on a map later to see just how far away it was from Foy. I wanted to know just how far away from that hell of a prison I was in I was.

As the horse clopped along the path, I opened my jacket to see the blood stains. Some were old, but there was a lot of fresh blood seeping through. Carefully, I peeled back the shirt to see the damage for the first time. I held back a gag when I saw the mangled and bruised flesh. I lowered my shirt back down carefully, readjusting my jacket and zipping it back up. I hoped that I wouldn't die of this wound that just couldn't give me a break and heal.

Eventually, I passed out.

I felt the carriage stop. I blinked my eyes awake, fearing what I might see when I opened my eyes. Slowly, I looked around, ready to bolt if I had to. As I looked around, there was nothing to be seen. I peered over the front of the carriage to see the husband watering the horse from the stream nearby.

Cautiously, I hopped out of the back, clutching my wounds. It felt good to stretch my legs and walk about, even though each step was painful. I approached the man and his horse. He smiled at me as I walked up to him.

"Sleep well?" he asked.

I nodded. "Thank you."

He pointed to my side. "Hurt?"

I looked down at my side. The blood stains made it look worse than I thought it was. I replied, "Yes, but I'll be okay."

As the horse was drinking, the man opened a side satchel and dug around it. Once he had whatever he was looking for, he pulled it out. Looking at it before handing it to me. I took the small jar from him and looked at it before glancing back up to him. He motioned to me to open it, so I unscrewed the lid and peered inside.

Inside the small glass jar was a brick red ointment. I brought it to my nose and sniffed it. It had a very medicinal scent to it. I couldn't even begin to identify the ingredients. I lowered the jar from my nose and put the lid back on. "Thanks..."

The man stated, "For your wounds. Rub it in...will help heal."

I smiled. "Thank you. I appreciate it."

He smiled warmly in return and started to get the horse ready to continue our journey.

I asked, "What's your name?"

He replied, "Raoul."

"Raoul...I'm Jane," I introduced myself. He shook my hand and I asked, "What can I do to thank you for helping me?"

He shook his head. "Helped enough." He motioned to the uniform jacket that I was wearing. "Thanks enough."

I felt like that was a cop-out. I wanted to do more for him and his family after all they've done for me. He was taking me to Hagenau to be reunited with my company. He had given me an ointment for my wounds, and he lied to soldiers who were looking for me. Just being here in the war didn't seem like near enough.

He started to hook the horse back up to the carriage. He asked, "What happened?"

I tilted my head at him. "With what?"

He motioned to my wounds and added, "That. And the men back there."

"It's a long story," I stated.

"Long ride," he countered. I laughed at his honesty.

Once the horse was back attached to the carriage, we climbed in. As he got the horse moving, I started to tell him my tale as my way of thanking him.

By the time I finished telling Raoul my story, we had arrived a few miles outside Hagenau. The weather was changing and I was beginning to enjoy the heat.

I had been applying the ointment to my wounds, just as instructed by Raoul and was already feeling a significant difference. The smell of the ointment lingered on my hands, but it didn't bother me.

We had taken several breaks for the horse, and for ourselves. We hadn't run into any enemy resistance, and we hadn't seen anything suspicious that would have made us worry that we were heading into a dangerous direction. The closer we got to Hagenau, the more of the Allied forces we saw. I was growing impatient as I was ready to be with Roe and the rest.

When I finished telling Raoul my story, I asked him his thoughts. It was the first time I had shared my story, and I wanted to know from someone who wasn't military to tell me that I wasn't a coward for not trying to escape Sauer's grasp. I wanted him to tell me that what I was doing, my mission to reunite with the company was a good idea. I needed some validation in some manner. All he did was tell me that I was brave and strong. It wasn't the answer I was looking for, but it would have to do as it seemed that he was done talking about it.

We pulled into the edge of Hagenau and he stopped. He motioned to the town and said, "I cannot go further."

I nodded as I climbed out. "Thank you for everything. I couldn't have done this without you. Thank you." I was about to walk away but stopped and added, "And thank you for this!" I held up the almost empty jar of the ointment. "This has been a lifesaver!" I turned and started towards the town when I heard him shout after me.

"Wait!"

I turned to see him reach into his satchel. He tossed something in my direction. I caught it and looked down to see another jar of brick red ointment in my hands. I glanced back up to meet his smiling gaze. He shouted, "You need it more."

I smiled back, putting both jars in my pockets. "Thank you!"

I watched as he turned his carriage around to head home. I was thankful to have met Raoul and prayed that from this moment on, that he and his family would only ever know love and peace for the rest of their lives.

I walked into Hagenau, watching as the soldiers on post eyed me carefully. As I approached the soldiers standing guard at the entrance of town, they stepped out of their cover to greet me. "What are you doing out here by yourself?"

I explained, "I'm trying to get back to Easy Company."

The man on my left laughed. "Easy Company? You're a bit late for that train."

I furrowed my brow at him. "What do you mean?"

The man on my right stated, "They left about four days ago."

I sighed, almost defeated. "Do you know where they went?"

They exchanged glances but shook their heads. The man on the right stated, "No, but Colonel Sink should still be here. He's heading down that way, I believe."

"Do you know where I can find him?" I asked. Quickly, I added, "It's important."

The two thought about it for a moment before waving me through. The left man stated, "He should be in that building by the fountain."

"Thanks," I said as I headed into the town. I was mad that I was too late to reconnect with the company, but at least I knew who to ask for directions.

As I entered the town square, I stopped to look around. Only four days ago, my company was here. I could almost feel that lingering aura they left behind. It was the closest that I had been since my rescue to them. I hoped that this wouldn't end like that day...where I was right there with them but torn away from them just as quickly, like a fleeting dream.

I spied the broken fountain in the middle of the square. Glancing about, I had no idea which building the men at the gate were referring to. There were buildings all around it. I didn't want to waste time knocking on each door in search of Colonel Sink.

I saw some men exiting a building across the street from me. I quickened my pace to catch up to them. "Excuse me?" They peered over their shoulders to look at me, but didn't stop. I jogged to catch up. "Do you know where I can find Colonel Sink?"

The man on my right stated, "I think he left this morning."

"No, he's leaving tomorrow," his friend on the left said. "He's in that building overlooking the river." He pointed across the way.

"Thank you!" I replied and headed that way. As I approached the building I was directed to, I saw Colonel Sink and a few of his men exit the building. They began to walk in the opposite direction of me. "Colonel Sink?"

He stopped and turned towards me. I could see in his face the recognition spread over his face. I counted my blessings that he at the very least, recognized me. "Yes?"

I glanced about the men that stood around him before saying, "I'm Jane Finley...I was hoping you could direct me to where Easy Company was."

He looked me up and down, lingering on my blood stained jacket. "Were you released from that hospital, Jane?"

I awkwardly glanced down at my feet before looking back up to his gaze. "No sir. I left. I needed to find my company."

"Your company?" he repeated. When I saw the small smile on his face, I knew that he wasn't really angry with me for leaving that hospital. He took a step towards me. "I've got them stationed in Berchtesgaden. I was planning on making that drive up tomorrow morning. You're free to ride with me."

I smiled at him. "Thank you, sir. That would be... that would be great."

He pointed to my jacket. "Do you need someone to take a look at that?"

I glanced down at my jacket. "Oh, no. That's old. Thanks though."

Sink was clearly worried about me, but knew that this was not the appropriate time to address his concerns. He nodded and continued on with his men. I watched as he walked away and felt butterflies in my stomach. I was heading back to where I belonged. It was just another day to wait before the trip would take place.

That night, I sat down on a rickety bench, watching the men who held the town of Hagenau as they worked their shifts. The atmosphere was completely different from what I recalled when I was in Bastogne. Things were calm. It felt like the end of the war was approaching given how everyone seemed so relaxed. I wondered if this was the end.

I pulled my jacket closer around me for warmth and laid back on the bench, staring up at the night sky. I studied all the stars in the sky. Memories of Roe came back to me as he talked about the stars and each story that he shared with them. He was right about the sky being beautiful depending on where you were in the world, but I smiled a knowing smile as I realized that he was looking up at the same sky as me.

I watched as a shooting star left a fiery trail across the black canvas. I closed my eyes and prayed that I would see Roe soon. I felt like a lost star searching for my soul mate and that shooting star was pointing me the way. I couldn't wait for that moment when I would finally see the end of this journey and be back to the one that would complete me.


	28. Death Of Me

"Miss Finley?" a voice echoed within my mind. "Miss Finley?"

I slowly blinked my eyes open. Standing before me was a soldier, looking down at me. It was morning but there was dense cloud cover overhead causing a brighter light above. I squinted as I allowed my eyes to adjust to the brightness.

"Miss Finley, Colonel Sink has been looking for you," he stated.

I sat up slowly and asked, "Where is he?"

"He's getting ready to head out. He told me to come find you," the boy stated. I nodded and stood up, following him towards the Jeep that I would ride in. "You're a hard person to find, Miss Finley."

I smirked. I was in plain sight, I thought. I didn't say anything as we approached the already filled Jeep. I worried that I wouldn't have a ride to Easy Company after all.

Sink must have seen the look on my face when he explained, "You'll ride in the back. He's staying here." He had a reassuring tone to his voice that made me relax a little. The man in the back seat hopped out, saluted Sink and left.

I was nervous and anxious. I didn't feel this way when we were approaching the beaches on D-Day. This was a whole new feeling that I was inexperienced with. I carefully climbed into the back of the Jeep. Sink turned to look at me as I got comfortable. He offered a smile before nodding to me and then turned to his driver, mumbling the order to drive.

We drove out of the town of Hagenau and were headed to Germany. I didn't care where we were going. All I cared about was getting back together with Easy. Once that happened, my mission would be complete.

After a few silent hours on the drive, Sink finally turned around to address me. He asked, "What happened to you, Miss Finley?" Before I could respond, he continued, "You had disappeared from the aide station in Bastogne and then we find you in Foy."

I nodded. It was confusing, I was sure to someone who wasn't there, but to me, it was a blur of action. I explained, "When they bombed the aide station, they sent a group of men in. I don't know who they were looking for, but they thought I was that person, sir."

I had noticed that each time I had said "sir" to Sink, he seemed mildly amused. I recalled a journal entry about how I refused to say sir because I wasn't military, yet here I was, addressing him as if he were my commanding officer. It just felt right, even though it made no sense.

Sink stated, "No one knew what happened to you. A few wounded had spoken up to tell us that they watched you leave with a convoy of sorts, but they couldn't make out who or where you were headed. Many of us feared you had been killed."  
"I'm sure that I had asked for that to happen at some point, sir," I admitted. I recalled praying for death to take me on that harvest table on a few occasions, but he didn't ask for that information. Not yet anyways.

I could tell that he wanted to ask me more about what happened to me while I was in Foy, but he restrained himself. I wondered if he was afraid of what I would tell him. There was one question that was apparent on his face - the important one that he was trying to find the proper way to ask me. I offered the answer to him without prompting, "I never told them anything of importance, sir. I didn't remember much anyways - at least, nothing that he wanted to know, that is."

Sink seemed to relax now that that was out in the open. He nodded. "I never suspected that you would have, Jane. We're just damn glad to see you're okay and alive."

I smiled at him as he turned back around, but the moment his eyes weren't on me, I frowned. He didn't know the half of what I endured while kept prisoner. He thought the blood on my jacket wasn't mine, when all I told him was that it was old. Only days old, but it was still mine. I put my hands into my jacket pockets and felt the small jars of ointment inside. I held onto them as we continued onwards.

I watched the scenery as we continued on our journey forward. I felt like I had escaped the endless hell of Winter and had emerged on the other side of warm Spring. Flowers were in bloom in seas of grass, trees were sprouting green and swaying in the gentle breeze. The majestic mountains were still slightly snow capped, but they were showing their beauty through the melt. Even the cloudy sky had started to wane and show the beautiful blue hue that was hidden underneath. The warmth of the sun that kissed my face as I leaned back to soak it in was almost heavenly. Things were beginning to look up for me.

The drive to Berchtesgaden took all day. Even though the scenery was worthwhile, it was a long endeavor, one that I was thankful for when it was over. I had been cramped in the backseat of the Jeep, and was struggling to climb out from the back and stretch my legs. I had felt the wounds snag and tear slightly, even though the ointment had helped, it still had a long way to go to heal. I hoped that I hadn't reopened anything after stretching.

Sink turned to me after I was out of the Jeep. "Head into that building over there. Someone should be able to get you a room somewhere." I nodded and he added, "It's good to have you back, Jane."

"Thank you, sir," I replied. "It's good to be back." He smiled at me as he walked away from me with his men.

I slowly took in the area around me. Men were in good spirits as they went about their business. Most didn't even give me a second glance while others were pointing at me and talking in hushed voices, most likely about me. I noticed that every single person looked well kempt. All were showered and clean. Their clothes were freshly laundered. I looked like I had rolled out of the foxholes yesterday, which wasn't too far from the truth. Most of the men around me, I didn't recognize. I hoped that I would stumble upon someone that I knew soon.

I wandered around before entering the building that Sink suggested I go into. When I walked in, there were a lot of men demanding things, mostly mail, but other supplies. I heard a familiar voice shout over all of them, "These don't belong to me! I can't just hand them out to any random guy!"

"We're not random guys, Luz! We're your friends!" another man shouted.

I stood by the door, unwilling to move forward into the mob of men. When Luz finally got them sated enough to leave, I came out from my little corner of the room. His eyes fluttered over to me and stayed glued to me. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. His cigarette fell from his mouth. I looked at him awkwardly, unsure of what to do.

He blinked several times and even slapped his face to see if he was dreaming. "You're really here?"

I nodded. "Yeah. I'm really here."

Luz was in front of me in two short strides, wrapping me up in a tight hug. "It's good to see you kid!" When I let out a pained grunt, he loosened his hug and looked me over, worried he was causing me too much pain. When I touched my side, he saw the blood and murmured, "Jesus...I'm sorry. I didn't know."

I smiled at him. "It's okay. You're not the first. Probably not the last either."

He stood there in shock before asking, "What happened to you? Where've you been?" He led me over to the bar to sit down as he busied himself in making me something to eat and drink.

I stated, "It's a long story, Luz."

"You remember who I am?" he asked, shocked.

I chuckled. "I remember enough, not everything, but just enough to get by."

He placed a cup of black coffee and a sandwich in front of me. "Please, eat. You look half starved."

I nodded and tried to eat something, but got sick almost immediately.

He gave me a sympathetic look. "If you didn't like my cooking, all you had to do was say so."

I grimaced. "I'm sorry-"

He cut me off. "I was kidding. Maybe we should start with something a little...less." He started to busy himself but I stopped him. He asked, "How long has it been since you've eaten?"

I thought about it but didn't have an answer for him. I could only remember the last meal I had back in Foy...and not much at all since. Even at the hospital, I couldn't remember actually eating anything. I shrugged in response.

Luz nodded. "Okay. Let's get you a room, and then I'll send Doc your way."

My heart flipped at the name. "Is he here? He's okay?"

Luz bobbed his head side to side. "Okay is a strong word, I think. I mean, he's fine physically, but I think he's been worried about you this whole time. He's not been himself...so I think he'll be happy to see you." I hoped he was right.

Luz led me out of the building and through the town to a quaint and homely hotel. As we walked, he was filling me in on the men who didn't make it. Even though I didn't really recognize the names, I felt a pang with each name he listed. He told me about their attack on Foy, which led to Dike losing command of Easy and it going to Speirs instead. He even told me about what happened the day they found me. He explained that everyone was scared for me and that they shipped me off to the nearest aide station without so much as a word.

He opened the door to my new room and motioned for me to enter first. He followed me in as I took in the place. I turned to face him. "Am I dead?"

He laughed. "I think we all asked that when we came here."

I glanced about the room, shaking my head at how far I've come. I couldn't believe that this was what the war was shaping out to be.

Luz stated, "I'll find you some clean clothes. Get some rest, Jane. You deserve it." We exchanged smiles as he left me alone in the cozy room. I sat down on the bed and took in everything.

I walked over to the mirror that hung on the wall next to the door. I loved the ornate decorations that laced the frame, small yet delicate. Then my gaze fell on the stranger looking back at me.

This girl staring back at me had sunken mismatched eyes. Her long hair had thinned and matted, clearly unwashed for months, if not longer, because it hadn't been washed in quite some time, it was hard to distinguish much color outside dirty, mud, and blood. Her skin was slightly grayed and sickly. There were scars and faint bruises that were healing across her face. Dried blood splotches were splayed across her face and neck, and her clothes. Her clothes barely fit anymore, but hung loosely on her. Her bones were visible in an unhealthy manner, showing just how long it had been since a proper meal.

I glanced down at my hands, remembering my broken digits. I flexed my fingers and noticed that while they all bent and moved as they should, my fingers, when held out flat, leaned in severe angles, all due to the lack of splints. There wasn't anything to be done about them now. I was just glad to have fingers that weren't mangled at all.

I looked back at the girl in the mirror. I sighed and whispered, "I guess it's just you and me now. There's no going back to who we were."

A knock landed on my door, breaking me from the conversation with the image I barely recognized. I turned to the door and opened it to find Roe standing there.

When the door opened and we were face to face, he stared at me, almost in shock to see me really standing there. He blinked at me a few times to make sure that I was real, then he glanced at me up and down, taking in the sight that I had seen for the first time in a long time.

I stepped aside for him to come into my room. Once he was inside and the door was closed, he embraced me the second I turned back to him. I felt the familiar sting of my wounds from the pressure, but it melted away when I felt Roe's arms pulling me even closer to him.

I felt a wave of emotion wash over me. My eyes unleashed waterfalls of tears. Unable to hold back my sobs, I cried into his shoulder. We stood there for a long time, just holding each other, crying tears of every emotion; we had finally become reunited. I could smell the familiar musk of his scent, felt the familiar scratch of his scruff as he nuzzled against my neck and cheek. Then my heart fluttered and my stomach flopped when he finally spoke, "My God...you're really here!" If I had to die tomorrow, I would die a happy and content person because I was finally where I was meant to be. In his loving embrace.

He finally pulled away from me, putting his hands on either side of my face, wiping the tears away with his calloused thumbs. "I don't know what to say."

I swallowed. "It's okay. We don't have to talk about it now."

He nodded. He pointed to the bed. "I brought you some fresh clothes." He looked me over again. "Seems like you need it."

I glanced down at my clothes. "Yeah. I think they'd stand up on their own if they wanted to."

He smiled, nodding slightly at my joke. "You should take a shower. I'll go get some food and water and I'll be back to take a look at you."

I hesitated for a moment. "Did Luz tell you..."

"Yeah," he quickly said. "He mentioned you getting sick...I'll get something you can stomach. We'll take it slow." That last sentence made me wonder if he had multiple meanings attached to it. I watched as he headed out of the room, closing the door behind him.

I turned and entered the bathroom. I turned on the shower and stood in front of the mirror again. I took in the stranger one more time, wishing her well and goodbye. I pulled the ointments out of my pockets and placed them on the counter before peeling off my blood soaked jacket, discarding it to the floor.

I kicked off the boots next without bothering to untie them. I stripped layer after layer off, then had a difficult time removing my shirt as the combination of the blood and ointment had created a hardened mixture that acted almost like a cast to my wounds. It felt like I was ripping off the top layer of my skin as I worked it off. When it was finally off, I let the shirt fall from my hand.

Now I stood naked in front of the mirror, completely horrified at the girl staring back. For the first time ever, I finally laid eyes on Sauer's work. I had half a dozen cuts along my right side with more than a dozen on the left, all of which were bruised and mangled as the flesh had been torn, kicked, sew together, and re-ripped. There were spots of blood that had just started to clot over, but sections that were still seeping. Layers of filth and ointment were caked on my body. Bruises marred all of my torso, neck, and shoulders. I turned to see my back. It was the same.

I held back my tears long enough to hide them within the shower spray. I tried to stand in the shower, but crumpled to the floor, sobbing as I felt the sting of the water hit each sore and bruise, washing away the filth of the nightmare that I had been carrying with me for so long. I couldn't stop myself from crying. I felt like I was mourning who I once was and coming to terms with the birth of the woman that I suddenly was forced to become.


	29. House On The Hill

I don't know how long I cried in the shower or how long Roe had been waiting for me to come out, but he was sitting in the chair in the room, waiting for me to emerge from the bathroom. I looked at him with an apologetic glance, feeling uncomfortable for how long I had been.

He stood up and asked, "Are you okay?"

I forced a smile. "Fine. Thanks."

"Did the clothes work out-"

I cut him off. "They're clean, which is better than nothing. Thank you for getting them for me."

He gave me a short nod before motioning to the bench that sat at the foot of the bed. "Let's take a look, shall we?"

I swallowed. "What are you going to do?"

"I have to make sure that you're okay. Colonel Sink said that he was worried with how much blood was on your coat...wanted me to make sure you were properly treated," he stated calmly. I hesitated. He asked, "What's wrong?"

I felt my heart race as I admitted, "I'm afraid."

"I'm not going to hurt you," he started.

I waved the remark aside. "That's not why I'm afraid." He furrowed his brow, not understanding me. I added, "I'm afraid of what you'll see. I'm afraid of how you'll see me afterwards..."

He padded over to me. "I'm not going anywhere. There's nothing that I can see that will change my opinion on you." I hoped that he was being sincere. Reluctantly, I walked over to the bench and sat down. Anxiously, I started to pick at the skin on my lower lip with my fingers, eventually ripping the skin.

Roe grabbed my hands, giving them a reassuring squeeze. "I'm right here. It's okay."

Sighing, I tried to relax as he started to help me lean back. Once I was on my back, he lifted my shirt gently, exposing my freshly washed body to the air. He saw all the cuts and bruises, inhaling sharply. He gave me a quick glance filled with worry, but remained silent. He set to work examining the wounds. When he was finished looking, he stated, "I've got to dress them."

I nodded and said, "There's a jar of ointment in the bathroom that someone gave me to treat my wounds. It actually works rather well."

He shook his head. "I think I should use what we have instead. You don't know what's in that stuff."

I was about to argue with him, but chose not to. I figured that I could save the ointment and use it later if I needed to. No sense in causing a fuss now.

Roe set to his task at cleaning and dressing the wounds.

The awkward silence that befell the room made me worry about Roe and me. I decided to test the water and asked, "Did you see the shooting star the other night?"

Roe didn't look up from his task and just responded in a grunt. I furrowed my brow at him. He side-glanced at me and stopped his work, turning to me with his full attention. "I did..."

I smiled. "I thought of you as it flew by."

He nodded, turning back to his work. I could tell something was wrong.

I added, "It pointed me in the direction of you." He gave me a small smile. It was enough for me, for now.

Roe finished his task at bandaging me up and stood up, walking to the bathroom to wash his hands. When he returned, he motioned to the small table in the corner of the room. There was a small dessert plate with a few crackers, bits of bread, and a sliver of meat. Next to the plate was a small glass filled only half way with water. "I managed to get you a little bit of food. After Luz told me that you got sick, we have to slowly reintroduce food and water to you. It's going to seem like not enough food for now, but I promise you, once you keep this down, we'll get more in you until you're back to normal."

He started to leave. I stammered, "W-wait. Where are you going?"

He sighed. "I should get back to the med station."

I sighed. "Oh. Right. Okay."

Roe was about to leave but stopped. "Oh, I forgot. I've got something that belongs to you." He walked over to my bed and picked up something from the floor. When it came into my view, my mouth fell open.

"My bag..." I gasped. "Where did you-" The last time I had seen my bag, it was around Fritz's shoulders, filled with canisters of film that I took of the prison camp. If Roe had my bag, I worried what might have happened to Fritz. My heart broke with fear and dread of what his fate was.

He set it down on the bench beside me. "I found them in Foy. It's got your camera and some unused film canisters-" he cut himself off. "Anyways, I thought you'd like to have them back."

I placed my hand on the familiar bag. "Thank you..." Roe was about to leave again, but I stopped him. "I have a question..." He looked back at me and waited. I braved the words as I asked, "What happened to Renee?"

He turned his pained dark eyes away from me, showing he was reminiscing her memory. He blinked back a few tears and said, "She was killed in the barrage in Bastogne. We buried her in a parachute with the men. She had a proper burial, surrounded by those she cared for and those that fought to protect her."

I sniffled, trying to hold in my tears, but my eyes betrayed me. I felt every sad heartbroken tear as they glided down my cheeks. "Thank you for telling me..."

"I'll come see you again soon," he admitted. I nodded and he left me alone in my room. I felt the familiar sting of tears forming behind my eyes as I heard the door latch behind him.

After choking the bits of food down, I decided to walk about the area. I needed to think, I needed air, and I wasn't about to get either being cooped up in my room...I didn't need to go from one prison to another. I grabbed my bag and slung it over my shoulder with an old familiarity.

Once I was outside, the fresh air hit my nose and I inhaled deeply, letting it burn my lungs. The burn reminded me that after everything, I was alive, which was more than I could say about a lot of men, even Renee. I needed to make sure that I lived my life without fear for their sakes.

I started to walk about the town, taking in the sights, taking pictures occasionally. The men were still in good spirits, and there didn't seem to be much going on. If I didn't know better, I would have sworn the war was over and we were all back home, going about our every day lives.

I rounded the corner on the path and felt that familiar ache in my side as I collided with a solid form. Strong hands grasped my hips, stabilizing me. I groaned a little before saying through gritted teeth, "Sorry."

"I heard you were back," a gruff voice spoke. I glanced up and met the intense gaze of Speirs.

Without realizing what I was doing, I wrapped my arms around his neck and held onto him tight. He seemed slightly taken aback by my actions, but returned the embrace. I could feel his face in the nape of my neck as we stood in the street hugging one another.

I pulled away, blinking tears from falling. "I was hoping to see you again!"

He looked me over and nodded. "I heard you were asking for me in the hospital." When I nodded, he added, "And that you ran away against orders."

I shifted in my place. "To be honest, no one ordered me to stay put either, sir."

He furrowed his brow at my use of the word 'sir', just like Sink had been. He lowered his gaze to my torso. "How's the wounds?"

I shrugged. "Healing, slowly."

He nodded knowingly. "I have something of yours." I looked up at him confused as he started to walk away from me. When I didn't immediately follow him, he stopped and motioned me to follow him. "This way." I obeyed his command, falling in step with him as he led me to a small shack outside of town.

He opened the wooden door and said, "Make yourself at home, if you'd like."

I looked around the quaint house. It was big enough for maybe two people, but there were only two rooms in the whole house; a bathroom and everything else. The bed was in the corner of the main room, the kitchen followed along the back wall, and there was just a lamp and chair in the opposite corner. In the center of the small room sat a table and chair set, barely big enough for one person and a guest.

I sat down at the table. "You live here?"

He nodded. "It does the job fine. Besides, no one bothers me out here."

I nodded my acknowledgement of his words, but continued to look about. It was a sad affair and my heart ached for him. I couldn't help but think back over the tiny amounts of interactions that I had had with him over the course of the war...and then to the moment when it was he who saved me, found me, made sure I didn't die.

He opened a trunk that sat at the foot of the bed and dug around inside. He lifted whatever it was he was looking for out, kicking the lid closed behind him as he made his way to the table. He moved the free chair over to sit next to me as he dropped a familiar leather bound book on the table before me.

My hands shook as I reached for the familiar book. I swallowed as I traced the edges with my fingers. "Where did you find this?" my words were barely a whisper.

Speirs looked at the book then back to me. "After we found you, Roe and another medic started to care for you. I looked around the house you were in. I found a lot of things there that were horrific, to say the least." I looked away from the journal to look him in the eyes. He continued, "On the desk in that room was your journal buried underneath all sorts of pictures, which I assumed you took. I took the journal and the photos, and handed the photos over to Colonel Sink."

"But you kept the journal?" I asked. "Why?"

He stated, "They didn't need to know your thoughts."

"Did you read it?" I questioned. It was a curiosity more than anything. I didn't care because the person who wrote it was long dead.

"Yes," he admitted. "I must say that you seem to be a different person than who wrote that." He pointed to the book. I nodded in agreement.

I asked, "What happened after that?"

"I looked around, like I said before. I found the tools they used on you, I saw the shed you were kept in..." I cut him off.

"Do they know?" I asked, referring to the men.

Speirs looked at me with a deep seriousness I'd never seen before. He shook his head. "No, I don't think anyone knows exactly what happened there."

"But you do?" I questioned.

He nodded. "I pieced it together. I think the men - Doc Roe included - think that you got caught in the line of fire when we started to barrage the town."

I swallowed, slowly nodding. Maybe it was for the best that they didn't know how bad it got for me. Maybe it was the better story for them to believe, that I simply was standing too close to a mortar when it went off.

Speirs added, "I also found letters written to you or anyone who knew you, hidden in the house."

"Letters?" I asked, clearly confused.

He nodded. "From someone named, Utzig." My heart skipped a beat when I heard the name. "He knew his time was coming to an end there. He wrote you several letters, and said that if anyone found them, they were to listen to his pleas."

"What pleas?" I questioned.

Speirs leaned back in his chair. "From what the letters said, he listed a lot of men's names that were responsible, not for what happened to you, but for the poor souls in the prison camp not far from there."

I closed my eyes, pained, as I recalled that camp. "What happened?"

He replied, "No one survived that camp. It was burned to the ground by the time we found it."

I didn't have the strength to keep from sobbing. All their faces flashed before my eyes, each story that I was told, each promise demanded from me to make things right...and for nothing. I sobbed into my hands, feeling waves of defeat. When Speirs placed a hand on my back in comfort, I collapsed into his arms, seeking solace and comfort. To my surprise, he provided everything I needed in that moment.

When I was finally able to compose myself, I asked as I wiped tears from my eyes, "What happens now?"

Speirs pulled away from me, eyeing me carefully. "We move forward. We wait for orders and we continue on with our jobs." He was very direct and to the point. Nothing seemed to phase him, it seemed.

"How do you move on so easily?" I asked quietly.

He studied me for a moment. "We don't." I looked over at him, meeting his intense gaze. "You bury it until you have the time to deal with it. Accept that it happened, become stronger than where you were before, and you promise to never let yourself go back there."

It all sounded too easy. Maybe it was easy for him to say these things and follow through, but I had a harder time thinking that I would become stronger than I had been before all of this began.

He added, "There's no shame in taking your time, Jane. You've deserved that right over a lot of the soldiers here."

"But, I'm not a soldier," I mumbled.

"Yes, you are," he stated. I looked away from him and he stood up, adding, "You're stronger than most men here. You've been through hell. You survived. It's more than most could say." He headed to the door, stopping himself before he opened the door. He turned slightly to address me once more, "I'm proud and inspired by you, Jane. You've endured unimaginable things and you came back."

I blinked back tears, looking up to watch him as he exited his little house on the hill.

I found myself wandering aimlessly about the town, searching for answers that no one could provide. Most of the time, the men didn't know how to talk to me. Most of them were replacements, unsure of who I was anyways.

Sitting down on a bench, feeling defeated, I contemplated what I was still doing here. I felt as though people like Dike were right. I should have been sent back home a long time ago. I realized that I wasn't useful here anymore.

As I thought things over, I felt someone sit down on the bench next to me. "Hey Jane, how are you?"

I glanced over to see a smiling face, almost offering comfort in the question. Unfortunately for me, I didn't recognize him.

He must have seen the confusion cross my eyes because he immediately added, "I'm Webster."

A light flickered on by hearing his name. "Oh...Webster. I know the name."

He smiled wide. "I've been gone for a while, like you."

I wanted to roll my eyes. From what I understood, he was in the hospital for a long time, whereas I was being held captive. The fact he was trying to compare our situations seemed laughable, but I held back my tongue.

He said, "I heard that you managed to escape the hospital." I nodded. He added, "That was brave of you."

"Not really," I replied.

He asked, "Did you meet anyone who helped you while you were there?"

"Helped me how?" I questioned.

"Just to be a friend while you were there," he stated. "I met some good people there. I know that some of them would be there for a while after I left. I was curious if you had met them."

I tilted my head at him. "Like who?"

Webster shook his head. "I didn't have anyone in mind. I just thought that maybe-"

I cut him off. "I did meet some interesting people at the hospital, to be honest with you. Though I have to say, if you were friends with these people, it begs the question if you were staying longer at the hospital because they influenced you to."

He furrowed his brow at me, taken aback by my sudden change in demeanor. "I wasn't implying anything-"

I stood up. "I met Henry. He seemed to know you well enough."

"Oh, how is Henry?" he asked, his voice showing genuine interest.

"I broke his leg," I stated. When Webster's face fell, looking at me with confusion, concern, and shock, I added, "He tried to keep me in the hospital with him. He wouldn't let me go, so I broke his leg; gave him what he wanted."

Webster looked stunned. "Which was?"

"A free pass to sit out of the rest of the war," I remarked. I turned on my heel, leaving Webster sitting there wondering what he did to anger me.

I felt my blood boiling. Images of the fight between me and Henry started to come up. I fought to suppress them. I didn't need to be reminded of them at this very moment.

I watched my feet as I walked, counting each step, hoping to calm down enough to find something to distract me, when I collided with someone.

"Sorry, you okay?" someone asked, helping to hold me up.

I looked up and nodded. "Fine, thanks." I brushed passed the man in uniform, not recognizing him either.

"Jane?" he called after me. I stopped and looked over my shoulder at him. He approached me and asked, "You sure you're okay? You seem a little..."

"Lost?" I asked, trying to finish his thought.

"I was going to say angry," he admitted.

I sighed. "Sorry. Been a hell of a day."

"I think you're allowed after what you've been through," the man said, offering a kind smile. "Have you seen Doc yet?"

I nodded. "Briefly. Now I think he's avoiding me."

The man shook his head. "Not avoiding. Processing. I think it's hard for him to see you in the state you're in. Just give him some time."

I stared into the man's eyes and said, "I'm sorry, I can't place your name and I feel bad because I feel like I should know."

He smiled, letting the comment roll off his shoulders. "Lipton. Lip, to everyone here."

I wished that I knew who he was. He was one of the few kind souls that had interacted with me. He wasn't digging for answers or my story, he wasn't expecting me to remember things that I couldn't. He was just there as a friend, something I had forgotten what it was.

Lipton sighed. "I've got to go. Major Winters is waiting for me." I nodded slowly, letting the words sink into my head. He added as he started to walk away from me, "We're glad to have you back, Jane."

It suddenly hit me just how much I had missed while being gone from the men. Luz gave me names of the men who we lost, Speirs told me what happened after they found me, and now Lipton had told me in passing about Winters's promotion. It was a lot to take in.

As I was thinking over all the details I was gathering by interacting or observing people, I spied Roe walking from one building to another. He said that he would come find me when he could, but I wondered how truthful that was. Maybe he was scared of who I was now or afraid of what he had seen. I fought every fiber in my being to rush after him.

Instead of running after him, I found myself walking back to the small house on the hill.

When I reached the door to Speirs's little house, I knocked on it, feeling awkward for doing so. I wasn't sure what I would say to him if he asked me why I was back here. I couldn't figure out how to best tell him that I felt more comfortable with him, like I belonged, like he cared for me.

I stood there for a few minutes, realizing that he wasn't inside and turned to leave. As I turned, he was walking up to me, carrying a small bundle in his arms. "I was hoping you were still here."

I tilted my head at him. "Sir?"

He opened the door and nodded me in. I followed him inside. Once the door was closed, he admitted, "I went to see Luz, wrestle a grooming kit from his stock."

I furrowed my brow. "Grooming kit?"

He set the bundle on the table and looked at me. "You have seen your hair, right?"

I touched the bundle of hair that was secured into a bun. "Yeah...it's why I have it knotted back here."

"I'm going to help you fix that," he stated.

"What?" I asked, clearly not hearing him right.

He smiled. "I do know how to cut hair." He motioned for me to sit in the chair. "I've cut many women's hair."

"Really?" I asked. "You're not just saying that?"

He unrolled the kit, showing combs, clippers, scissors. I suddenly paled. Seeing the kit reminded me of the tools Sauer used against me. I felt my hands shake and sweat. Speirs looked up at me and must have seen my distress. He glanced at the tools and then me. Quickly, he stepped in my range of vision, blocking my view of the kit. He placed his hands on my cheeks, lifting my head to his. "Hey. I'm right here. I'm not going to hurt you."

I blinked tears back. "I know."

He kissed my forehead comfortingly and said, "Let's fix this hair."

I felt him lead me to the chair, turning it so that I wasn't seeing the tools. He tried to comb out the tangles - the rat's nest of knots - but it snapped his comb.

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

He tossed the comb aside. "It's not your fault. Your hair hasn't been taken care of in a while. It's bound to happen." I heard him sigh before admitting, "I was hoping to save your hair, but...I think I may need to cut it short."

I swallowed. "How short?"

"Don't worry, it's going to look nice," he said as he started to reach for the scissors.

"Why are you doing this?" I asked. "Why are you being so nice to me?"

He paused his work. "You've already been through enough, Jane. You don't need another person near you that pretends to be mean. You've deserved a lifetime of kindness."

I felt my heart flutter at his words. Hearing the sincerity and love from him made me want to cry, to hug him. He was understanding and was showing me that nothing was going to push him away. He was being the best friend that I so desperately needed.

He let a short sigh release. "Okay, ready?" I nodded. He said, "Here we go." I heard the first cuts snip behind me.


	30. This Time It's Different

It took a lot longer than either one of us had expected, but when Speirs was finally done cutting through the knots and tangles from hell, he was able to comb out the rest. Once he was finished, it felt good to have all those tangles fall away...like chains holding me back. He handed me a small mirror to see his work.

I looked at myself in the mirror, ignoring the sickly looking girl and focusing on the hair. Surprisingly, he did an amazing job. My long hair was cut to just below the chin. It was simple, but it was perfect to me. I lowered the mirror and looked at him.

"Well?" he asked. "Not too bad, huh?" I wrapped my arms around him, holding onto him tight as I hugged him. Tears fell down my cheeks as I embraced him. He returned the hug. "Now, now. It wasn't that good."

I whispered, "It's perfect. Thank you."

I squinted as the light above me was too bright. I saw someone approaching me, lowering themselves over my field of vision, blocking out the bright light above. Sneering down at me was Sauer.

"I'll have you broken before you can even say stop," he stated. He held up a hot curved knife. While staring at me, he jammed it in between my ribs. I screamed. I could feel him twisting it, the blade scraping against the bones. He had the widest smile across his face, eyes red with enjoyment and hatred. He removed the blade and showed the bloody knife to me. "Shall we continue?"

I watched as the bloodied blade came rushing towards my eye.

I jolted awake suddenly. My heart was pounding in my ribcage. Sweat rolled down my body. I felt a chill roll over my skin before I was suddenly wrapped in warmth by strong arms. Carefully, I peered over my shoulder to see a sleeping Speirs laying next to me. My eyes widened. I tried to remember how I got into this predicament, but I couldn't.

I noticed that he was fully clothed, laying on top of the covers, while I was also fully clothed and laying under the blanket. I must have stayed here and fallen asleep waiting for him to return when he was called away earlier that day. I couldn't be angry for him joining me in the bed as it was really me who intruded on him and his space.

I lowered my head back down on the pillow. In his embrace, I felt calm. I felt safe. I felt like I had found someone who understood what I had been through, someone who wasn't judging me on my trauma, or someone who was expecting me to remember things that I simply couldn't. He wasn't asking anything of me. Instead, he explained the hard truths to me and in the midst of my struggles, he admitted that he was inspired by little old me. He had helped me and I needed that comfort, that feeling of belonging. Strangely, this had drawn me closer to the one person that I never thought it possible.

I was, however, disappointed that Roe never did come looking for me like he said he would. I saw the pained look on his face when he was fixing me up. I tried to connect with him on a personal level by talking about the shooting star...but it went nowhere. It broke my heart to think that there was no returning to where we once were with one another. It pained me to think that after all this, after every frigid night thinking about him, memorizing his face in hopes it would help me fight through the torture and loneliness, that it was all for naught. He was the driving force behind why I was desperate to get back. And he could barely look me in the eye.

I fought back the tears, afraid of waking up Speirs. I didn't think he'd understand why I was crying over a man who was refusing to understand or listen to what I had been through. It was hard because there was a huge part of me that wanted to throw it all out there for him, but then there was an even bigger part of me that worried that he already knew and this was his answer.

"Why are you awake?" a gruff voiced whispered into my ear.

I sniffled. "I can't sleep."

"What are you thinking about?" Speirs asked. I hesitated. I didn't want to answer him. He asked, "Roe?"

I swallowed. "Yeah."

Speirs unwrapped me from his hold, sat up in bed, and climbed out, heading to grab his jacket from the chair. "If he can't listen to you, he honestly doesn't deserve you, Jane. It's that simple."

With that, Speirs left the house, leaving me to sit in the darkness alone.

Speirs never returned that night. I waited for him to return that morning, but he never showed up. I wondered where he had disappeared to. After wasting time waiting, I finally left the house.

Walking about the town, I discovered that orders were given to Easy Company to begin moving out to Zell Am See. Some men were happy to be moving on again, while most were annoyed.

I knew that we would be leaving soon, so I quickly returned to the room that I had been given to use, and gathered the few items that I had. My jars of ointment that still sat on the counter in the bathroom, untouched. I grabbed them and tossed them into my bag. I looked around the room, searching for any other items of mine and realized that I left the journal in Speirs's house. I quickly ran back towards it to retrieve it.

As I headed down the path, I heard a voice call after me, "Jane!" I turned as I walked, but stopped when I saw that it was Speirs. I turned on my heel and approached him. He held out the book to me. "We don't want you to lose this again, do we?"

I took it from him and smiled up at him. "Thank you." I put the book into my bag.

He returned the gesture and I never realized how nice his smile was as it was rarely seen. He walked away from me to climb into the front vehicle and I caught a glimpse of Roe as he stood away from us, watching our interactions. He climbed into an already full truck of men, leaving me no option to join his.

I looked about for another option. As I glanced about the convoy, I spied a couple a guys waving me over. I walked over and they reached down to grasp my hands, lifting me with ease into the truck. I smiled my thanks to them.

One of the men was Webster. I swallowed, hoping we were past whatever it was that happened before. He just smiled warmly at me, clearly having moved on from our outburst earlier.

Another man in the back of my truck was Luz. He took a drag from his cigarette and smiled warmly at me. He motioned to the area around his cheek and said, "Looks good."

I smiled at him as a what to say thank you silently. I looked at the rest of the men in the back of the truck. No one else was willing to say a word.

I turned and looked back to the town we were leaving behind. I hoped that wherever we were going next, it would bring better things than what I had gotten here.

After the long grueling journey to get to Berchtesgaden, driving to Zell Am See was nothing. Watching the tall trees pass by was relaxing. To see the mountains and streams was comforting, but the moment we saw the grand hotel that would be called home was something out of a fairy tale. I took a couple pictures, knowing it wouldn't do it justice.

Once the trucks stopped, everyone knew what was expected of them. I stood awkwardly off to the side, wondering what to do with myself. I didn't have to wait long as a familiar face appeared before me.

Winters smiled down at me. "Just the person I was hoping to see."

"Sir?" I inquired, confused as to why he wanted to see me.

He motioned me to follow him. "I've been meaning to come see you after hearing about your return." I nodded. He added, "How are you doing?"

I shrugged. "It's been..." I thought about what to say before just admitting, "It's been tough, sir."

"How so?" he asked, leading me towards the hotel.

I stated, "It's been hard being back. No one seems to know me." I scoffed. "I don't even know myself."

He nodded. "I heard that you had a rough time adjusting."

I shook my head. "It's been frustrating to say the least. It's bad enough that I don't remember much about myself, but knowing that those around you are wanting you to remember past conversations or remember details about them when you can't..."

He stopped us in the hallway. "No one should be putting that kind of pressure on you," he said. "Not after what you've been through."

"How much of what I've been through do people really know?" I questioned.

Winters shot me a slightly confused glance. "What do you mean?"

"Well, it seems to me that no one really knows that I was tortured," I explained. "If anything, they seem to believe that my wounds were mortar blast inflicted. They haven't come right out to ask, but they seem to think that's the way of it."

Winters motioned for me to a quieter place to talk, out of the hallway and listening ears. "I'm not sure what anyone knows." I gave a disappointed smile, and he added, "I wasn't sure until Speirs told me."

"When did he tell you?" I asked, stunned that he said anything at all.

Winters replied, "The day he found you." He sat down and offered the free chair to me. I sat down and he continued, "It might come as a surprise to you, but he was scared for you."

"He barely knows me," I stated. I thought back to any of the interactions before getting captured and we hardly spoke. I wasn't convinced that he even knew who I was before all of this.

"He requested to go after the car that sped away from Foy," Winters admitted.

"What?" I asked. It scared me to think that Speirs was willing to hunt down Sauer. It made me afraid to think of what would have become of him had he gone out there after that madman.

"I denied his request, of course, but I have often wondered if I should have," Winters stated.

"No!" I shouted a little too loud. I cleared my throat and calmly stated, "That would have been bad. It's best that you didn't let him go."

Winters leaned forward, lowering his voice. "What happened to you, Jane?"

I thought about what to say to him. I wanted nothing more than to admit everything and tell him every sordid detail, but I also was afraid of the repercussions of doing so.

He saw the struggle that I had with the decision and offered, "It doesn't have to be now. You take your time. Heal first and we can always talk later."

I nodded. "Thank you. I appreciate it."

Winters stood up and said, "I meant what I said, Jane. We're all glad that you're back...and nice haircut by the way. Looks good on you."

I smiled at him and watched as he walked away from me.


	31. Start Again

I had found out which room Speirs had selected to use for his stay. I approached the door and raised my fist to knock on it, but hesitated. I shook my head, thinking how silly it was for me to track him down to ask him questions, but then I felt the urge that this was important to know. Just as I was about to knock for real this time, the door opened and he stood there with a smirk on his face.

"Are you planning on knocking on the door or not?" he asked, clearly amused.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Spying on me?"

He smiled. "I heard you pacing long enough. Come in."

I walked into his room, amazed at the elegance and grandeur of the place. He even had a balcony attached to the bedroom.

"What can I do for you?" he asked.

I turned to address him. "I had some questions."

"About what?" he asked, picking up his bag from the floor and tossing his things onto the bed.

"About the letters you found," I stated. He didn't look up but he was clearly waiting for me to continue as he rifled through his stuff. "Do the letters say what happened to Utzig? Or any of the others?"

Speirs clenched his jaw before answering. "Utzig eluded to knowing that his time was short lived. It's possible that he was executed."

"But you don't know for sure?" I asked.

"Why is it so important that you know what happened to him?" Speirs asked sharply.

I hesitated in replying, but worked up the courage to do so. "He wasn't the bad guy."

"He's a Nazi," Speirs pointed out.

"Yes, but he wasn't one of the bad ones...he was following orders-" I was cut off.

"Orders? You're going to stand there and defend a man who knew about a prison camp a few miles from there and all the horrific things that happened, and tell me he wasn't a bad Nazi?" he asked, practically shouting at me.

I tensed. "He wanted me there to capture the images to show the world what evil was. He wanted nothing to do with that. He didn't support it, just like a lot of the men didn't support those camps!"

Speirs crossed the room, grabbing my upper arms, holding me tight. "Look me in the eyes and tell me that you didn't see those people and think that they'd be released after all this was over?"

I saw hatred in his eyes. It scared me. I tried to pull away, but he wasn't letting go of me. "He wasn't a bad man, maybe he made bad choices, but he was trying to keep me safe."

"So safe that he brought the specialist in?" Speirs said. He used the keywords that no one else knew about.

I asked, "How did you know about the specialist?"

"Utzig wrote about him in the letters. He's the one who requested help in getting you to talk," Speirs stated. When I looked betrayed, he added, "So, how do you see him now? Still a good guy who made bad choices?"

I felt Speirs let go of me, but I was frozen in place from the shock of hearing that Utzig had requested Sauer. Everything I was told seemed like a lie.

Speirs sighed. "I'm sorry to have to be the one to tell you. I wish it wasn't the case."

I swallowed. "I appreciate you telling me. Even though it's not what I wanted to hear."

Speirs turned away from me. "You're looking for answers that you might not want to know in the end. But you have to do what's best for you. Just don't get in over your head tracking them down. You might not like what you find."

Everything was a lie. I no longer knew what was truth, which way was up, who to believe, who to fear...everything was a lie. I feared that this outlook would reshape me into a completely different person than I had already become. How many times can a person change and within a short amount of time?

I recalled memories of Utzig. He didn't seem like the type to be evil. He seemed like a good guy. He admitted having to do things that he didn't want to do because of orders. He wanted me to go to that camp, take pictures so that the world understood what we were fighting for - what Hitler's vision for the world would be if he were to succeed.

I thought about Sauer. Even if Utzig had informed his superiors about my difficulty in remembering things and if he had told them about possibly sending out someone to help him, I'm not sure he meant to bring someone so vile of a person as Sauer. How could he, especially with his views of that camp? Sauer, on the other hand, was the kind of person who would have set fire to the whole prison, watching the people inside burned alive. He might have even enjoyed it.

My mind wandered to Styne and Fritz. Fritz was upfront with me from the beginning about who he was. He just wanted to go home. It wasn't until later that he was sent to track me down. It's possible he was telling the truth that day in the frozen woods, but once he was brought back to his men, it could be that he informed them of me, thinking me to be who they were looking for...either way, I trusted Fritz. He tried to get me out of there. Same was true with Styne.

Styne admitted that he was tired of war. He had served so many already, watched too much death and pain and destruction. He just wanted to live the rest of his life in peace with his family. He felt like a protective father figure for me while I was being held prisoner. He warned me not to try to escape...he didn't have a vile bone in his body.

Still, Speirs's words stuck with me. Speirs had seen more of the house than anyone else in the company. He had pieced together what had happened, but he wasn't there interacting with the people that I had. He might only be speculating based on his findings. He might be telling the truth about what was written in Utzig's letters to me, but he never met the man. If Utzig was still alive, it was something I needed to ask him - if I ever saw him again.

I was deep in thought when a pair of boots stopped in front of me as I sat on the steps of the grand hotel. I glanced up to see who they belonged to. I was thoroughly surprised when they belonged to Roe.

He looked down at me. "I've been looking for you."  
I blinked at him. "You found me."

He nodded awkwardly before sitting down next to me. "How are you?"

I cleared my throat. "I've been better."

"Yeah," he muttered. I could see that he wanted to say something but was unsure of himself.

I decided to take the initiative. "I'm sorry."

"What are you sorry for?" he asked, clearly taken by surprise.

I replied, "I'm sorry for what's happened with us...my accident that caused me to forget everything we had before...I'm sorry for being so stubborn back in Bastogne. I'm sorry for being captured-"

He cut me off, "That's not your fault-"

It was my turn to cut him off. "It could have been avoided somehow...but, regardless, I am sorry for everything."

He shook his head with a sincerity that I hadn't seen before. "No. You have literally nothing to be sorry for, Jane. If anything, I should be apologizing to you."

"Why?" I asked. "What do you have to be sorry for?"

He looked away for a second before turning back to me. "I have a lot to be sorry for. I've put too much pressure on you. I've wanted you to remember things instead of being understanding that you might not." He looked at his hands, fiddling with his nails. "I'm sorry for ignoring you when you were in Bastogne. I should have been talking to you like I said that I would, but... I just didn't. I think I was angry that you weren't remembering." He sighed. "Above all else, I'm sorry that I have been avoiding you since your return. I saw your wounds and felt angry." He saw the look on my face as it fell and quickly added, "Not with you. With those that did that to you."

"You mean, you know about-" My voice trailed off, afraid to say it to him.

He nodded. "Yeah, I gathered as much based on the wounds. I wanted to kill someone, and I haven't wanted to do that this whole war." He thought for a moment before saying, "When we were in Foy, I got the order that Speirs needed a medic. I had no idea that I would find you in that house with him. When I saw that it was you, passed out and bleeding out, looking like you'd been through hell, I froze. Speirs had to shout at me to get me moving and focused again." He turned his gaze away. "I wanted to stay with you in that hospital, but our orders were to move out. I had no choice. I wanted to wait until you woke up. I felt like you deserved that...that we deserved that, but...I had orders to follow. When you finally showed up, still battered and bruised, I-I didn't know what to do. I still was processing what you'd been through, but I was stupid in thinking that I was the only one processing." He turned back to me. "I can't imagine what you've been going through, how you're handling all of this."

I shrugged. "I'm dealing."

"But you shouldn't be...especially not alone," he stated. "I'm sorry that I left you alone. I'd understand if you are angry with me."

"I could never be angry with you," I replied softly.

His gaze bore into my soul. We sat there on the stone steps, looking into each other's eyes. Out of no where, he grabbed my neck and pulled me into a hard kiss. I could feel the tension, anger, fear, and love within that kiss. It was as if he had been building it up for the longest time and now that he had the chance to kiss me, it exploded unfiltered.

He pulled back from the aggressive kiss. "Sorry. I just...I needed to do that."

I smiled. "It's okay...maybe next time, not so rough."

He returned the smile. "Let me try this again." He pulled me in for another kiss, but this time, it was gentle and filled with longing.

I muttered against his lips, "Better." He pulled away from me. I asked, "What next then?"

He sighed. "We start over. It's okay if you don't remember before now. We'll just start over. Get to know one another all over again."

"And if I remember things?" I questioned.

"Then you remember. But it's not the focus anymore," he reassured me. "I wasted too much time on it...watched you disappear from me. I can't do that again. We wipe things clean. Start anew."

I smiled a wide smile, the first in a long while. "I like that plan."

He leaned in again, kissing me. He pulled away and stated, "I like your hair, by the way."

I chuckled. "Thanks. Speirs did a good job."

His eyes grew wide. "Speirs?"

I nodded, smile plastered on my face. "Who knew?"


	32. My Demons

"We have to get out of here!" a young girl panicked, pulling me along the animal trail in the woods. "They'll find us!"

"Who? Who are you afraid of?" I asked.

The girl glanced about, clearly looking for something or someone. "We don't have time! We have to go!"

"Go where?" I asked. Fear starting to rise.

The girl stopped dead in her tracks. I could see her trembling. "Oh no. It's too late. We're too late!" She turned to me. I noticed that her eyes matched mine, her hair a similar shade of auburn. Her eyes widened with fear. I watched as a few snowflakes drifted down onto her long lashes. "They're here," she whispered.

I heard footsteps rushing towards us. I turned only to see the butt of a rifle hit me in the face, knocking me down into the cold snow.

When I sat up, I was naked and alone in the dark. There were a few holes of light. I peered out of one of them. I could see Lange and Sauer speaking in hushed tones in the snow banks outside a familiar house. When I squinted to get a better look, I saw Sauer suddenly turn and meet my gaze.

I scrambled back away from the light, trying desperately to hide in the dark, but I felt arms grab me. I was about to scream, but a voice from within the dark silenced me. "Hush! He'll hear you!"

I whispered back with a shaky voice, "Who? Who will?"

"You know who, Jane. You've always known. Don't start playing dumb now," the voice stated.

When I turned to see who was speaking to me, I was suddenly sitting at the desk in the office of Utzig, and Marta was pacing behind me.

She sighed. "You're always playing dumb. Why can't you just tell the truth? Why make this so difficult?"

"Why are you doing this? What did I ever do to you?" I questioned.

She knelt down next to me. "You're doing it to yourself. The longer you hold in what you know, the harder it will be for you in the end. We may have to kill you."

I was suddenly back on the harvest table, bright light shining down from above. Sauer blocked the field of vision with his smug evil smile. He asked, "What should we do today?" He showed me another tool, a small handsaw. "Shall I take a limb? Maybe we should start slow, and take a finger or two?"

"No...no..." I started to say. Then I felt the searing pain in my fingers, the saw's teeth as they dug into my flesh, ripping it open as he hacked through the flesh and bone. "No!" I screamed.

I felt strong hands on me, pinning me down. "Jane! Jane!"

My eyes flew open, tears pouring from my eyes and I tried to attack the person holding me down.

"Stop! It's me! It's Gene!" Roe shouted at me, trying to calm me down.

I blinked at him, finally realizing that I had been dreaming. I saw Roe's face above mine, filled with fear and confusion. I stammered, "G-Gene?" He released his hold on me until I lunged into his bare arms.

He held onto me just as tightly as I was to him. I shook in his embrace, sobbing uncontrollably. He shushed me, caressing the back of my head, trying to calm me down as best as he could. "It was only a dream," he cooed.

I shook my head. "I wish that's all it was."

We pulled apart and he looked at me confused. "What do you mean?" He thought for a second, studying my face. "Flashbacks?"

"Sort of..." I admitted. "There are things that I went though, but then there's things that never happened."

He nodded, still clearly worried about me. "It's okay. You're safe now. No one is going to come after you. It's over."

Again, I shook my head. "I'm not so sure, Eugene. Something about those dreams felt so real."

He leaned down onto his elbow, propping himself up in bed as he listened to me. I was afraid to get too detailed in my dreams or what I went through with him. I didn't want him to walk away from me because of those horrors inflicted on me.

Roe sighed. "What can I do, Jane? How can I help you?"

I flopped back down in bed. "There's nothing you can do, Eugene. I just have to ride this out."

"That doesn't mean you have to do it alone," he pointed out.

I turned to look at him. I smiled as he lowered himself to kiss me. "I know, but I think I have to...at least for now."

He furrowed his brow, but said nothing more on the matter. He laid next to me, wrapping his arm around me, pulling me closer to him. The feel of his naked body next to mine made everything fade away. It felt right. It felt like home. I felt loved.

It was the one thing that I had craved our relationship would have. My only regret was that it took what seemed like forever to get there. I cherished this moment. If there was one memory that I wanted to hold on to for the rest of my life, this would be it.

"I'm sorry that I woke you," I whispered, feeling sleepy.

Roe shushed me. "Don't be sorry. There's no reason to be sorry. Just sleep." He pulled me closer to him, wrapping me in his embrace as we both drifted to sleep.

The next morning, Roe was already gone when I woke. He left a little note, quickly scribbled on were the words I'll see you later. I smiled as I read the note. I kicked the covers off, got dressed, pulled my boots on, and slung my bag over my shoulder. I looked at my reflection in the mirror.

The girl staring back at me was starting to look more human instead of a dying skeleton. There was color in my flesh again. Life had returned to my eyes. Having the haircut that Speirs provided, made me look like a respectable individual all over again. I could get used to seeing her in the mirror each day.

I grabbed the note from the bed and tucked it into my pocket. I turned and looked at the room once more, smiling at the memory of the night, before turning and leaving the place.

I stepped out into the street. I picked a direction and started walking. As I was walking down the street, I saw a commotion of people surrounding an ambulance. I stopped in my tracks. I worried who it was inside. I spied Roe at the back of the ambulance, talking with Winters. Winters looked disappointed. He nodded to whatever Roe was saying, but then Roe climbed back inside, doors shut behind him, and the vehicle drove off.

Once the ambulance drove away, the crowd of soldiers dispersed. I saw Webster walking away. "What happened?"

He met my eyes. "Janovec...he-he's gone."

I didn't recognize the name, but I asked, "What happened?"

He just shook his head. "He had 75 points. He was only ten points short of being able to go home...so close yet...he still died. That's not fair."

I wasn't sure what to say to him. This was the first time I had heard anything about points. From what he said, I was able to piece together what it meant. I felt so disconnected from the rest of the men because I was still playing catch up on everything; who was dead, who was injured, who went home from injuries, who was still here that I just forgot their names, and so on.

As I thought about how many points Janovec needed in order to go home, I began to wonder how many points Roe had. Would he be able to go home before me? Would he go home and wait or would he move on with his life?

I couldn't shake the question from my head, so I decided to track Roe down and ask him. I wanted to know how soon he'd be able to go home if he had the points to do so. I had a generalized idea of where the aide station was, so I headed that way.

"Jane?" a voice asked.

I turned to see who was calling me. When I turned around, I was face to face with a familiar old friend. "Styne?"

Styne stood as straight as his frail body would allow him. Standing next to him was one of our soldiers, clearly confused as to how we knew each other.

I rushed up to him, embracing him tightly. He returned the embrace with equal enthusiasm. He started crying into my shoulders as I tried to hold back my own. With a shaky voice, I asked, "What are you doing here? What happened to you?"

He pulled away from the hug and patted his cheeks dry with his wrinkled hands. "I got reassigned. The unit I was placed into was one of the first to surrender and sign an agreement to work together."

I sighed in disbelief. "I can't believe you're here."

Styne shifted in his place, readjusting his gear that hung from his frame. "How'd you escape?"

"I didn't," I admitted.

Styne nodded, knowing he didn't need to ask for more details. He said, "I'm sorry that you had to go through all of that."

I shook my head. "It's not your fault."

"I tried to get you out of there. We all tried," he stated.

"Who's we?" I questioned.

"Utizg. Fritz," he listed.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "But I thought that Utzig called the specialist in..."

Styne sighed, slightly shaking his head. "He was pressured to order for back up in getting you to talk. He didn't want to see you go through that." I looked away, thinking about the letters, Styne added, "When we realized who was coming for you, we knew we had to act quickly. We managed to get Fritz out of there with the film canisters, but it was too late to get you out."

"Where's Fritz now? Is he okay?" I asked.

Styne shrugged. "I don't know."

"Do you know what happened to Utzig after..." I was afraid to finish the sentence.

Styne nodded. "He was demoted and reassigned."

"So he's still alive?" I questioned.

He thought for a moment. "I believe so. It's been a while since I have heard from him, but last I heard, he was."

I blew a sigh of relief. I smiled at Styne. "I'm glad that you're okay. I was worried about you."

He gave me a warm smile. "I've been through a few wars now. I wasn't about to let this one take me out." He motioned to my camera and bag. "I see some things never change."

I glanced down at my things and chuckled. "You're right about that."

Styne whispered, "I'm so glad to see you survived."

I shifted in my place. "To be honest with you," I looked over at the soldier with Styne and waited. The man stepped back to let us have a few moments alone. I swallowed before finishing, "I barely survived. I'm still healing from what they did."

Styne glanced me over. "What happened?"

I placed my left hand across my abdomen. "He did a lot of things-"

Styne cut me off by raising his hand. "I don't need details. I think I know enough." He started to walk down the road. The soldier assigned to him followed behind us as we walked. "What happened to Sauer?"

I glanced down at my feet. "He escaped...alongside his wife."

By my mentioning Marta, Styne's head whipped over to meet my eyes. "He brought his wife?"

I nodded. "Yeah. He made me believe she was like me. He tortured her, just like me."

The look on Styne's face matched how I felt when it happened. He seemed shaken. "He tortured his wife?"

I said, "Yeah. They were both responsible for what happened to me."

He shook his head. "Never underestimate a man who is willing to kill his own wife for his work."

I nodded in agreement. There was something not right, even now when I thought about it, for how he treated Marta. I couldn't imagine how life was for her before the war, and even after their escape. Was she still alive once they fled? Did Sauer punish her for failing him? It was still a mystery to me.

Styne took my hand in his frail one. "Don't waste time thinking about them. They are long gone from here."

"How can you be sure?" I asked. "I'm still having nightmares and flashbacks about them."

He sighed. "Their demons may still haunt you for some time, but they are long gone from here. Believe me, I know."

Their demons. That's what he called it. It was a pretty fair assessment of the situation. It wasn't something I would have come up with on my own, but when he worded it that way, it made sense.

Styne added, "It will go away. It might not be today or tomorrow, but eventually, those demons will fade away and it will just be another memory."

I smiled. "You're very wise, Styne."

"War does that to you," he stated.

Flashbacks of Fritz saying the same thing to me came over me. Suddenly, I was overcome with emotion thinking about Fritz - where he was, if he was okay - that I pulled away from Styne. He looked at me with kind eyes, knowing that I was thinking of something. He didn't push me for any more answers, but instead walked with me in silence to our destination.

Styne and I parted ways halfway to the aide station. Styne and his comrade had to do their shift at the crossroads, but he reassured me that he would come see me again soon. I was looking forward to it.

After we separated, I continued onwards towards the aide station, taking pictures along the way. By the time I arrived to the aide station, I was just refitting my camera with a new canister of film. I dropped the finished roll into my bag as I entered the building.

Upon entering the building, I saw several men in casts in the beds along the far wall. Memories of being in the aide station came flooding back. Images of Henry cropped up and I fought the memory. I didn't need to deal with these 'demons' right now. I didn't want to.

I quickly scanned the area in hopes that I would see Roe. I didn't want to be in the building any longer than it was necessary. My eyes finally found him in the back of the room, filling out paperwork. I made my way over to him, trying my hardest to keep my nerves in check.

He glanced up as I approached him. "Hey. What are you doing here?" he asked, setting the paperwork down as he stood up to greet me.

I swallowed my nervous energy. "I saw you earlier in the ambulance. Thought I'd come see how you're doing."

He nodded. "I'm okay. It's been rough watching our men get themselves hurt or killed when there's nothing happening." I watched his face fall as he was thinking it over, but then he blinked away the images and looked back at me. "You okay? You seem uncomfortable in here."

I smiled awkwardly at him. "Yeah...it's not a place I want to be in right now."

Roe motioned for me to start heading towards the door, following me out. Once we were outside, I was able to breathe a little easier. "Thanks."

"I could see you tensing up," he admitted. "Now, what brings you here? Just checking up on me?"

I sighed. "In part... but there's something that was mentioned earlier that I wanted to ask you about."

He furrowed his brow, crossing his arms. "Okay, what is it?"

I shifted in my spot. "How many points do you have?"

"What?" he asked, needing clarification.

I bit my lip before repeating myself. "How many points do you have?"

Roe blinked at the question. "How'd you hear about the points?"

I felt like he was avoiding my question, almost as if he was afraid to tell me the answer. I was growing increasingly on edge; expecting the worst. "When I saw you earlier today in the ambulance, I spoke with Webster. He told me about the guy who died and how many points he needed to go home - how he was only 10 points shy of being able to go back home..." I watched Roe's changeless expression as I spoke. I added, "It got me wondering how many points you have... how many you need in order to go home..."

He uncrossed his arms. "I'm not going anywhere any time soon, okay?"

I narrowed my eyes at him. "How many points do you have?"

He shook his head, reaching out to comfort me. "I don't have enough. You don't have to worry about me leaving you here alone, okay?" Reluctantly, I nodded that I understood. He gave me a curt nod in return and added, "I have to get back in there to finish up. I'll see you later."

I watched as he turned from me and reentered the aide station. I pursed my lips in thought. He didn't tell me how many points he had. I realized that he may never tell me what I wanted to know. For some reason, it bothered me to have him withhold information from me. I thought we were past that. I released a heavy sigh, forcing myself to turn and walk away.


	33. I'll Survive

I entered the main square of town after taking a few breaks to photograph the men. I spied a group of men playing basketball and stopped to take pictures of them. When they saw me, they waved me closer. I approached them.

"Hey Jane," one of them said. "How're you doing?"

I smiled. "Fine."

The man returned the smile, approaching me. "I'm Charles Grant."

I nodded my thanks regarding his introduction. "How've you been, Grant?"

He shrugged. "You know, keeping busy until we can go home."

I motioned to the men who were waiting for him. "Like basketball?"

He chuckled. "Yeah. Basketball." I could see that he had a question lingering, so I waited. He finally worked up the courage to ask. "I was wondering... and you don't have to answer if you don't want to-"

I raised my eyebrows at him. "What is it, Grant?"

He wiped sweat from his brow. "Are you really okay? I mean - you know, after... well, after you were..." I waited, wondering how long it would take him to say the word. He finally muttered, "Tortured?"

I smirked. "I'm okay. I'm healing."

"I've heard that you've had some flashbacks too," he admitted. "How has that been?"

I glanced away for a moment before saying, "I'm dealing. It's been hard at times."

He nodded in understanding. "I can't imagine what you've been through." I shrugged, unsure of what to say. He asked, "You know that if you need anything, you can always come to me. I'd be there, no matter what, if you needed me to."

I furrowed my eyebrows. "What?"

He cleared his throat. "You might not remember, but we were friends once. You helped me a couple times, and... well, just know that you have more friends than you think."

I smiled at him. "Thanks. It's good to know." He waited for acknowledgement about our friendship so I added, "I wish I knew more about before..." I shook my head. "But unfortunately..."

"No, I get it. New day, new outlook, new life, right?" he asked.

I gave him a half shrug. "Something like that, but that doesn't mean that I'm not open to rediscovering old friendships."

He smiled at that. "Good. You're one I want to keep around."

"Hey Grant! Come on, man! You're holding up the game!" one of the men behind him shouted. "Just because you're losing-"

I chuckled. "I better let you get back to it."

He nodded. "See you around, Jane. Good to have you back."

I stood there, watching him run back to his friends. I felt that familiar pang of guilt wash over me. I wondered if I would forever feel guilty that I didn't let Anna help me with my amnesia. I was missing out on the relationships that I had built up back then.

I recalled the first conversation with Fritz when he said that he had watched good friends become strangers over this. I was feeling that way now, except that I was the friend that couldn't remember and wondered how many of these men that I walked by during the day had remembered me as I was, wishing and hoping that I'd suddenly remember them. Only a few brave men had the decency to come forward to talk to me about the past, hoping to move forward as a fresh start.

As I stood there watching Grant and the others play their game, I realized that the only thing that I could do was to move on, reintroduce myself as Grant had done, and start anew. All else would lead to madness.

I spent the better part of the day, wandering about aimlessly, taking pictures on occasion. I took the time to reflect over the past several days, contemplating all the interactions that I had with those around me. I had gotten so lost in thought, I had found myself lost.

At first, I had panicked. It brought me to tears thinking about Sauer and Marta jumping out of the bushes to grab me. I had sat down under a tree, hugging my knees, willing myself to snap out of it. I had found the strength to breathe, to realize that nothing bad was out in the woods looking for me. All I had to do was toughen up and start to look for someone who could help me find my way back.

As I walked down the trail in the direction I thought was the right way, I was making mental notes to myself about allowing my thoughts to get the better of me. I shouldn't be getting into my head when I was alone. My memory still wasn't a hundred percent. I had to be careful.

I was beginning to worry about all the men who were potentially looking for me. Speirs, Roe, Styne. I wondered if I had upset them by being gone for so long. I began preparing myself for the fights that might be coming my way because I had wandered off.

Eventually, I had found a small house just off the road. I headed that way, hoping someone was home. I approached the ornate wooden door and reached forward to knock on it. Upon my fist hitting the door, the door creaked open. My eyes widened, suddenly on guard. I knocked again, asking, "Hello? Anyone home?"

Just as I was about to push the door open to see if anyone needed help, the door flew open and I was face to face with a man in uniform. He was sweating profusely and seemed agitated. I took a step back. He eyed me before asking, "Can I help you?"

I glanced him up and down briefly. "I was about to ask you the same thing." When he stood there staring at me, I added, "Are you okay?"

He blinked, running a hand through his black hair. He released a short chuckle. "Of course. I'm fine. Glad it was you who came to check up on me."

I narrowed my eyes at him, unsure if he was saying that because he knew who I was or if he was in trouble. I asked, "Are you sure you're okay? You seem like you need help."

He sighed, letting his hands fall down next to him. "Actually, it's rather embarrassing, but yes, I could use a hand." He opened the door wide for me.

I hesitated for a moment. I shook the doubt from my head. I knew that if I was going to start building back up the relationships that I had before the accident, before the torture, I needed to trust those around me. I crossed the threshold of the house and looked around. I heard the door close behind me. The man stared at me. I asked, "What do you need help with?"

He laughed. "Well, I came here to rest after I was stranded on the roadside."

"What happened on the roadside?" I questioned.

He smirked as he replied, "I ran out of gas and those fucking Krauts wouldn't give me any."

I swallowed. "What happened?"

He took a couple of unstable steps forward. "I took their Jeep...they didn't need it anymore."

It suddenly dawned on me that he was drunk. I hadn't noticed that when he answered the door. I blinked at him as he stopped a few short paces away from me. "Where are they now?"

"Dead," he stated.

I tensed. Nodding, I said, "I should go back and get some help."

In one quick motion, he grabbed his handgun from the table, aiming it at me. "You're not going anywhere."

I raised my hands in quick defense. "Hey...easy..."

He motioned for me to step away from the door. "Get over here, quietly." I was frozen in place. I was afraid to move. In two small steps, he grabbed my arm, jerking me forward, gun still held at my head as he hissed, "I said get away from the door!"

He pushed me into the other room. I landed hard onto my hands and knees. I quickly got my footing back. I wanted to make sure he stayed where I could see him. He used his gun to scratch his head. His twitchy behaviors were making me scared that he was going to kill me.

"What are you going to do?" I braved the question.

He eyed me. He took a step forward, I took one backwards. "Why are you here?" My heart started beating hard in my chest. I was afraid to admit the truth, but I was equally afraid of lying to him. "Answer me!"

I jumped at the sudden anger that he shouted at me. With a shaky voice, hands still raised up in front of me, I stated, "I was out walking...got turned around."

"So you're in need of help," he stated, taking another step towards me and I took one back only to feel the wall against my back. I swallowed hard, willing myself not to show my fear. He closed the remaining gap between us. He was standing so close to me, I could feel the buttons on his uniform grazing my chest.

I looked up to meet his eyes. They looked hungry, angry, dangerous. "I think you should let me go now..." I managed to say. "People are out looking for me-"

He released a short chuckle. "No one's looking for you." He lowered his head to my neck, inhaling as he came back up the side of my face. "It's just you and me."

I saw that he had placed his gun on the dresser by the door. I didn't notice that he did that when he entered the room behind me. My mind raced wildly as I started to piece together a plan quickly. I knew that I could make it to the gun if I was able to take him by surprise. I also knew that if I didn't do this correctly, and he got a hold of the gun, it was me who'd be shot instead. Either way, I knew that no matter what, I had to fight for my life. I wasn't going to be the victim anymore. I refused to be tortured again.

The man pressed against me, securing me between him and the wall. Just as I felt his hands start to feel around his buckles, I knew that this was my moment to catch him off guard. I closed my eyes and mustered the courage to act.

Quickly, I stomped on his foot, grabbing his head with my hands, I pushed him into the armoire by the bed, and raced towards the dresser where his gun sat. Just as I reached out for it, I felt strong arms grab both of mine hard, pinning them against my chest before I was yanked down to the floor. I lost sight of where the gun landed.

He twisted me around to face him. I didn't hold back my punches and slaps. I managed to nail him a couple of times in the face. He slapped me hard before managing to pin my wrists down on either side of my head.

He leaned down towards my face. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" When I didn't reply, he lifted me slightly off the floor by the collar and hissed, "Huh? What are you doing?" He lowered me back down, muttering, "Fucking bitch." There was a sudden change in his eyes before he mumbled again, "I'll show you to fuck with me." He started to fumble with my jacket. I took the opportunity to start attacking him to get him off me. I wasn't planning on going out without a fight.

As I started fighting back, I saw images of my fighting back against Henry. I saw Sauer's face when I fought him back in Foy. With each punch or slap that I threw, I was reminded of the tortures I endured, the betrayals, and I attacked as hard as I could. The man didn't know what to think when I was fighting back. He ignored my attacks at first until I landed the palm of my hand against his nose, breaking it.

He let a pained scream loose, jerking his head back as he straddled me. He grabbed his nose, looking down at his bloody hands in shock. He cursed me under his breath, smacking me hard. As I recovered from the hit, he had managed to pull my shirt up passed my wounds. He stared down at them. I swallowed hard, wondering what was going on in his head when he looked at them. He met my gaze. "What's this?"

"Wounds," I replied through gritted teeth. I squirmed under him, still trying to get him off of me.

He pushed his hand into my abdomen hard. "Does it still hurt?" When I grimaced in pain, he chuckled. "Guess so." I reached out and smacked him again, only to be met with another blow to the stomach.

I grabbed fistfuls of his hair, yanking hard to try and dislodge him off me. He grabbed my wrists, trying to pry my hands off of him, shouting at me the whole time. I kicked my knees back, trying to knock him off balance but he seemed solid for as drunk as he was. He managed to rip my grip off his hair, backhanding me hard.

I saw the gun a few feet from me and tried to reach for it. He reached down, pinning my neck to the floor. He hissed, "You know, you're a handful. Too much fucking work."

Feeling his hand around my neck, I started to lose consciousness. I was determined not to go out like this. I knew the moment I passed out, all bets were off as to what this crazed man would do to me.

I heard the door to the room break off the hinges and several shouts with guns cocking. When I felt his hand come off of my throat, and his body off of me, I coughed hard, breathing deeply as I blinked away the stars I was seeing.

I watched as some of the men from Easy escorted the drunk man out of the room, leaving me with several worried gazes down at me. One of them men ordered the others to leave. He carefully approached me. "Jane?"

I coughed. "Yeah?"

"It's me, Talbert. What the hell are you doing here?" he asked.

I took a shaky breath. "I made a mistake..."

Talbert sighed, motioning to the last guy in the room to help him get me up. He said, "You're lucky we found you when we did."

"Who is that guy?" I asked. I felt the bruises forming on my face from being hit. I licked my lip and felt that it had been split. My abdomen was hurting from being man-handled.

The man who stayed with Talbert replied, "He's a replacement from I Company..."

"How'd you know to look for him?" I questioned.

Talbert seemed upset by the question. He motioned the man next to me. "Bull was informed that the man was responsible for shooting Grant in the head."

My heart stopped and my stomach knotted up. "What?" It was only a few hours earlier that I had spoken with Grant. All of the sudden, to hear that someone you just spoke to was facing death or was dead, made reality a hard pill to swallow.

Bull said, "Speirs and Doc are looking for a German doctor right now."

"He's alive?" I asked.

They nodded. Talbert replied, "For now...who knows what will happen."

"Especially after Speirs catches wind of what he was doing to you," Bull added. "He's on the war path now over what happened with Grant."

The statement made me nervous. It never crossed my mind what Speirs would say or do when word got out about this. I'd seen Speirs angry before. I worried what he would do to me over all of this too.

Talbert and Bull helped me out of the quaint house towards the waiting Jeep. Bull hopped into the backseat, giving me the front passenger seat while Talbert drove us back into town.

The ride back into town was quiet. Bull and Talbert were most likely worried about what was going to happen to that I Company replacement, and I was worried about what would happen to me once Roe and Speirs saw me.

Talbert pulled up to the main building where they had the rest of the men waiting with the replacement. We jumped out of the Jeep and started to head in. Talbert turned to me. "I think it'd be best if you just went back to your room."

I glanced between Talbert and Bull. "No. I'm coming with you."

Bull put his hand on my shoulder. "I'm not sure that's a good idea."

One of the men waiting by the door shouted, "Hey Talbert! You coming? We're ready for this!"

I glanced behind Talbert and asked, "What are you guys going to do to him?"

Talbert sighed. "I think it's best if you don't know."

"Are you going to kill him?" I asked.

Bull shook his head, shifting his cigar from one side to the other and headed towards the rest of the waiting men. Talbert gave me a sympathetic look. "Please, Jane. Just go to your room...don't get involved with this."  
"I'm already involved," I stated. "I can't just sit back and wait."

He shifted uncomfortably in his place. "Listen, I don't want you to be here when we ... "

I waited for him to finish his sentence, but when he didn't, I filled in the blank for him. "What, torture him?"

Talbert paled at the word. I'm sure he finally heard the real truth about what happened to me. "Look, just stay out of the way, okay?"

I nodded and followed him into the building. I spied a few disapproving glances my way as I followed Talbert. The majority of the men, Bull included, were in a separate room with the replacement. I could hear them beating him within an inch of his life.

"Luz, what's going on in there?" Talbert asked, clearly not happy with what was happening.

Luz looked between the two of us. "Yeah, well...let's just let them do what they will, huh? Come play some cards."

I furrowed my brow. I couldn't believe he thought cards was going to do enough to just make us forget what was happening in the next room. Talbert sighed and sat down with Luz as he started to deal a hand.

"Jane, you playing?" Luz asked me. I shook my head as I stared at the door to the other room. "Then maybe have a seat and watch."

I turned around to see his face. He didn't want me there, but he couldn't say it outright. I glanced at Talbert briefly and he nodded for me to join them. I shook my head as I sat down next to Talbert.

After a few minutes of hearing the beating going on, I started to get uncomfortable and antsy. I stood up. Luz asked, "Where you going?"

I blinked away the threatening tears. "I need to get some air." I could see the worried looks on Luz and Talbert's faces, but they didn't stop me from walking out the door. Once outside, I sat down on the steps, head in my hands.

I was fighting the images of my torture. Hearing the blows landing on the replacement in the other room had filled my ears with the sounds of the beatings that I heard Marta endure. I was trying so hard not to cave to these flashbacks, but it was proving too difficult.

As I was struggling to bat down my flashbacks, I heard a Jeep come skidding to a halt. I glanced up and watched Speirs rushing towards the building. I started to stand up but he pointed to me and ordered, "Wait here."

I furrowed my brow at his order and followed him inside. I saw the anger in his eyes and the tension on his body as he brushed by me. I worried he was about to make a terrible mistake. As I entered behind him, I heard him ask, "Where is he?"

Talbert asked, "How's Grant?"

"Where is he?" Speirs asked again.

"Is he okay?" Talbert asked, trying to keep Speirs calm.

"Where is he?!" Speirs shouted. I stopped walking, startled by his shout. When he heard the beating going on in the other room, he pointed and asked, "Is he in there?"

I looked between Luz and Talbert, none of us knowing what to say or do. We stood there gawking at one another, praying that Speirs wasn't about to murder the man.

I could hear their voices in the other room, but I couldn't make out what was being said. Shortly after, Speirs exited the room. His eyes were on me. I swallowed hard as he headed my way.

"Grant's dead?" Talbert asked, braving the notion.

Speirs stopped a few feet from me and turned to address Talbert. "No. Kraut surgeon says he's going to make it." He holstered his gun, glanced about the men before turning back towards me. He grabbed my arm, pulling me along beside him as he exited the building.

Once we were outside and down the steps of the building, he yanked me in front of him. "What were you thinking?" I blinked at him, about to retort when he added, "I told you to wait out here." I scoffed up at him. He continued, "Where the hell have you been all day? How'd you get yourself wrapped up with this...this..."

I could see he was still seething from the events of the day. I sighed. "I'm sorry, okay? I had no idea - how would I?"

"You don't just accept help from random men you don't know!" he shouted.

I shouted back, "Every one is a random man to me!" Speirs blinked at my reply. I continued, "How am I supposed to distinguish any one person from the next when I barely know anyone? I thought he was one of ours...he looked like he needed help. What was I supposed to do?"

"Stay put! Stop wandering off! Where were you all day?" he asked, practically demanding information from me.

I tried to pull my arms away from him, but he had a good grip on me still. "I went for a walk-"

"You went for a walk," he scoffed, releasing his hold on me to run his hands through his hair, utterly frustrated.

I sighed. "Yes, I went for a walk. I didn't realize that it was going to get me into trouble, okay?"

I waited for his retort. He was deep in thought, that much was obvious. He asked, "He do that to your face?"

I nodded. "Yeah, but I broke his nose."

Speirs smiled. "Good girl."

He took a step away from me. I asked, "Are you still mad at me?"

"Yes," he stated without hesitation. "But I suppose I can't expect you to just sit idly by. You put up a good fight from what I was told."

I sighed. "How's Grant really doing?"

Speirs released a heavy breath. "He's going to make it. Had it been a little bit in any direction, it would have been fatal."

"Doc with him?" I asked.

Speirs nodded. "Yeah. At the hospital with the Kraut surgeon." He saw my wheels turning and said, "Roe needs to work. Stay away from the hospital." Before I said anything, he turned back to me. "Get in the Jeep. I'll take you back to your room."


	34. Where Do I Begin?

The next morning, I woke up to the sounds of knocking. I opened my eyes and blinked a few times, trying to remember where I was. The knocking persisted on my door. I sat up and was suddenly reminded of what happened yesterday. My body was sore from being tossed about like a ragdoll. I also felt the bruises on my face and neck, as well as the slight sting on my lip.

I opened the door to see a man in uniform standing there. "Yes?"

"Colonel Sink would like to see you this morning," the man stated. "He also asks that you bring your things." I nodded slowly as I turned back into my room to grab my bag full of my stuff. I wasn't sure what was going to happen, but I was worried.

I followed the man out the building and towards a Jeep that was waiting for me. We climbed in and drove to the opposite end of the town to the building where Sink was using for his office.

I followed the man into the building and was told to wait. I sat down and watched as the people in the office busied themselves. I even spied a few men in German uniforms. I wondered if they were there to surrender.

As I looked away from the Germans, I caught a glimpse of them talking and pointing to me as if they recognized me. I tensed immediately. I was afraid to look back at them for fear that my eyes would be the giveaway to whether or not they did recognize me.

"Jane?" a man asked. I looked up at him. He motioned me into the office where Sink was. "He's ready for you."

I entered the room and stood by the door as the man behind me closed it, giving us complete privacy. Sink motioned to the chair. "Please, have a seat." I sat down and he asked, "How are you doing, Jane?"

I shrugged. "I'm okay, sir. Thanks for asking."

Sink nodded. "Glad to hear. I was informed about the altercation between you and that replacement from I Company." I shuddered at the reminder. He reassured, "I've had it taken care of."

"That's good," I replied. I was waiting for him to tell me why I was here. It wasn't like this was the important topic of discussion.

Sink asked, "I was hoping we could discuss some of the photos that we received and had developed."

I furrowed my brow at him. "What pictures? The ones that Speirs brought to you?"

Sink shook his head. "No, though we do have those here. I was referring to the canisters that were given to us from a young man who goes by the name Fritz."

My heart leapt into my throat. "Fritz...?"

Sink nodded, shifting papers on his desk. "Yes. He had turned himself over to our men a while before we launched our attack on Foy. He had with him your canisters of film, and mentioned that he knew of your whereabouts and the plan that his commanding officer had."

I asked, "Where is he? Is he okay?"

Sink suppressed a smile. "We'll talk about him a little more later, but I need to address the more important matter at hand." He held up a file. "There are several photos in this folder I'd like you to look at and if you can, tell me what they are of, where - basically any information you have to give would be most helpful."

I took the extended file from him and opened it across my lap. The first photo was of the German officers in Foy having tea. I stifled my laughter. I explained to Sink the day that I took that photo. It was my first full day in Foy, how I had been ordered to take photos of the men there to show that not all of them were evil and that Fritz was my escort through town.

The next photograph was of Styne. I smiled as I traced my fingers over the image of the older soldier. He was standing up against a tree, chest full of war medals, gun slung down his shoulder, his helmet and uniform barely fitting his old frame. I explained to Sink who he was, how he helped me, and that I had run into him just a few days ago. I expressed my joy that he was still alive and well, that we were treating him decently as he deserved to live the rest of his life in peace.

I turned to the next picture. It was of an American soldier cradling another American soldier, offering him comfort while on the line. I couldn't make out who they were, but I explained that it was important to show this side of war.

I saw the picture of the fountain that sat outside the aide station in Bastogne. I had to explain that at the time of taking the picture, I hadn't a clue as to who I was or why I was here. I didn't even want to take pictures, but I was encouraged by the nurses there, and this was the first photo I took since my accident.

The next picture was of Anna and Renee. I broke down in tears. I couldn't contain my emotion. I knew that Renee was dead. Roe explained to me that she was wrapped in a parachute and buried with the men she helped. But Anna was a mystery as to where she was. I asked Sink about her. He offered me condolences and stated that he didn't know anything about that day or the people who were there. It broke my heart knowing that even now, I wouldn't know what happened to Anna. I so desperately wanted to know her whereabouts.

I forced myself to turn to the next picture. This one was taken in Eindhoven. There was a soldier sitting down with a little girl on his knee, giving him a kiss on the cheek. It was a sweet image and even though I didn't know either one, it warmed my heart knowing that she would grow up in a better world.

Suddenly, upon looking at the next image, I closed my eyes. Images of the prison camp that Utzig sent me to came over me. I couldn't help but shed more tears as I remembered the faces of those there, begging me for help, promising me to help them.

Sink spoke softly, "Speak to me, Jane."

I licked my lips, trying to hold back the waves of emotions. With a shaky voice I managed a whisper, "I failed them."

Sink asked, "How do you mean?"

I told him the story of how I found myself at this prison. I told him all the stories that I had been told, how one man lost his entire family and that he didn't know about the women in his life - if they were alive or not. I told him of the promises I told them, how I took the pictures there so that they'd never be forgotten.

Sink tried to be reassuring. "You didn't fail them, Jane. You're following through with your promise. You took those pictures. The world will forever remember them and what horrors they endured."

I shook my head as I looked at the image in my hands. It was an image of the men in the prison, looking out of the gates towards me. When I turned to the next image, I had to think about what I was looking at before it finally dawned on me.

Sink admitted, "Now, these next few pictures, we're not sure what we're looking at...if you know what they are, please let me know."

I wiped the tears from my eyes and released a shaky breath. "This one was taken inside one of the gas chambers..." The image was of the wall. Inside the chamber walls were finger nail marks. "From what we were told, people were put inside these chambers...alive...they tried to claw themselves out. The men from the prison that I met had told me that they were ordered to remove the bodies and put them into ovens for cremation." I felt sick to my stomach as I said those words. Sink hung his head low, clearly upset as well by what I was sharing with him.

Finally unable to continue looking at the image, I moved onto the next one. A tub filled to the rim of rings. I suddenly remembered when I had seen the tub of rings. I asked about them. Everyone who was brought to the camp, dead or alive, were stripped of their belongings. The Germans wanted the gold - no one really knew why - but everyone lost their wedding bands, watches, and other jewelry. This image showed just how many had been in the camp at one point. It broke my heart knowing that there were hundreds more that had been there than I had the chance to meet.

I moved on from those images. There was an image of the aide station in Bastogne. It showed just how badly hit Bastogne had been before I was captured. The majority of the town was already in ruin with a few buildings still mostly standing. Outside the aide station, you can make out the piles of clothes, boots, helmets, and other gear from men that didn't survive their wounds.

The next image was of the men before we entered the Bulge. I stared at all the men's faces, recalling who was left today. It didn't dawn on me until I saw this image just how many men we had lost. Men who I wanted to remember, but would never get the opportunity to.

The final image in the pile was that one solitary image of Utzig. It got me wondering again where he was. Styne had confirmed that the last time he had spoken with Utzig, he was still alive, but he hadn't heard from him in a while. After seeing the image of the men from Easy Company before the Bulge and from what happened with Grant just the night before, I knew that life could be taken away from you just as quickly as you'd blink.

Sink asked, "Who is that man?"

I wanted to tell him that I didn't know, but we were too far along in this war to lie in order to protect people. I explained, "He was the first man in command in Foy."

"He's the man who tortured you?" Sink questioned.

I shook my head. "No. He wasn't. He's not the bad guy. He's the man who asked me to take pictures of his men, of the prison camp...of the truth." I used his words to me. He wanted me to capture the truth with my camera so the world would know that not every German soldier or officer was evil. He wanted to expose the camps and the horrors that were taking place here. I explained all of this to Sink. I even told him about when Sauer had appeared, Utzig, Styne, and Fritz were all gone - reassigned - leaving me no one on my side for help.

Sink sat there watching me as I closed the file of photos and extended them back to him. He took them and said, "Thank you for going through them. I know that it was difficult to do."

I nodded. "Thank you."

"We'll have more photos soon. They're currently being sent back to us from being developed," Sink informed me. I nodded. "Get some rest, Jane."

I stood up and left the office. It was amazing to me to see the photos that I had taken. I was beginning to remember things by looking at them. I wondered if I would be able to get my memory back by getting my hands on all the photos that I had taken.

I noticed upon exiting the office that the men in German uniforms were no longer there. I was glad that they had left as I didn't want to confront the possible conversation that may have cropped up if they had recognized me. I also knew that if they were allowed to roam freely as some Germans had been allowed, I might run into them regardless. I made a mental note to be on the lookout.

Stepping out of the building, I caught a glimpse of a familiar frame walking across the way. I skipped into a light jog to catch up. "Eugene!"

He stopped and turned around. His dark eyes met mine. He smiled briefly. "Jane. What are you doing here?"

"Colonel Sink needed me to look over some things," I stated. "What are you doing here? How's Grant?"

He sighed. "He's hanging in there."

"That's good," I said. "I'm glad he's going to be okay."

Roe stated, "He still has a ways to go to heal before we can send him back home. Gonna take some time." He studied my face before adding, "I heard about what happened with you the other day...with the replacement."

"Oh, that," I said, shifting my weight from one foot to the other. "I'm sorry about that."

Roe asked, "What happened? Why were you even there?"

I sighed, afraid of how this conversation was going to go, but I also knew that it had to happen eventually. "I went walking, taking pictures, and I got lost. I saw the house with a light on, thought someone was home and could point me in the right direction...I didn't think that he was going to be...well, you know." He nodded, still waiting for me to continue. I added, "I didn't know who he was, but let's be honest, I don't know many people these days. I thought he might have been one of ours that I used to know..."

Roe nodded again. "I understand. If I were in your position, I might have done the same thing."

I narrowed my eyes at him suspiciously. "You're not mad?"

"I'm not happy, but I can't hold it against you when you can't remember people," he admitted. "I can't exactly expect you to never talk to people because you don't know them."

I asked, "So, what now?"

He shrugged. "We move forward."

"Just like that?" I questioned. I could see that he still wasn't happy with me for what happened.

"Sure, just like that," he mumbled. He started to walk away and I followed him. "I have to go back to the hospital. I have a lot of work to do there."

"When do you think you'll be done?" I asked. I wasn't asking about being done for good, but just for the day or even the week. It seemed like a long while since we had seen each other.

He shook his head. "I don't know. I'll see if I can't sneak away for a while tonight, but..." He sighed, running a hand through his black hair. "I just don't know, Jane. I'll see you around."

I stopped following him and watched as he left me in the square alone.

That afternoon, I was sitting on a bench, switching out rolls of film when a soldier approached me. "Miss Finley?" I looked up at the young man, squinting in the bright sunlight, and nodded. He extended a pile of envelopes to me. "We've been looking for you. You've had a lot of mail."

I took them from him. "Thanks." I watched him leave and glanced down at the return address of the top letter. The Times office back home. I opened the letter.

Dear Miss Finley,

We have been incredibly amazed by your work on the war efforts. Please continue to send your used film to our offices. We have sent the sum of $50 to your address.

Regards,

Mr. Bradley

I opened the next few from The Times, and they were roughly the same, explaining that they were using my photographs and how much money was being sent home. With each letter, I was calculating how much money my family was receiving. It would make them have a pretty comfortable living until I got home.

The next work letter I opened was different.

Dear Miss Finley,

We have not heard from you in quite some time. We are growing concerned as we have not received any new film rolls from you. Please respond as soon as possible to maintain contact and payment for your position.

Regards,

Mr. Bradley

The next couple were along similar terms. One had even mentioned that they tried to contact my commanding officer in my company to see if I was still alive or not. I worried that I may be taking pictures for no reason as the letters made it seem that I might not be employed by The Times any longer since it had been too long since they had heard from me.

At the bottom of the stack, there were a couple of letters from home. I opened the first one.

Dear Jane,

I have been reassured by my old friend, Robert Sink, that he has placed you in the best outfit that he could, and that he is looking out for your best interests. I wish that I didn't have to fret, but until you are safe back home, I fear that I will spend the rest of my life worrying about your safety. Please be careful, listen well to the men around you, keep your head down, and stay out of trouble.

Come home as soon as you can.

Love,

Dad

I read the letter several times, blinking back tears. I hoped that he still felt that way about me when I showed back home when this was all over.

The next letter I opened was painful to read.

Dear Jane,

We have been informed by your colleagues the true reason you have gone. To say that we are betrayed and disappointed is an understatement. We cannot fathom why you would sell yourself for a morale boost for the men serving. It pains us to have to know that you are turning yourself into a trollop and throwing all of our hard work and lessons we've instilled in you out the window. We had hoped that we raised you better than this.

If you get this letter, know that you are no longer welcome at home. Our daughter died the moment she left home. You are a stranger to us.

Sincerely,

Mr. and Mrs. Finley

I scoffed at the letter. It was written by my mother. I wondered how much my father agreed to this. I also wondered what she was talking about regarding the "real reason" I'm here. She made it sound like I was prostituting myself here which was so far from the truth. I thought about the "colleagues" she mentioned in her letter. I pulled out my journal and skimmed the first couple entries, trying to find the one that I was on the verge of remembering. When I found what I was looking for, I nodded. There was mention of some issues between me and a couple of men who were telling me that the only reason I was offered this photographer gig was because I was a woman and Bradley didn't want to risk losing his good men. I wondered if after the scene that I caused before leaving made those men lose their jobs and this was their payback. It would make sense.

It pained me to think that all of this was because they believed two men that they'd never met before, believed them over me. If I made it home, I wondered if they would forget their harsh letter and still accept me back into their home and arms. If they meant what they said and disowned me, then I suppose that I no longer had any family left. It broke my heart.

I tossed the journal and letters back into my bag. I leaned back into the bench, closing my eyes, willing myself not to cry. I was tired of crying. I just wanted stability, love, and support. Somehow, those things were just as difficult to find as my memory had been.


	35. Lost It All

That evening, I sat inside my room, looking out at the night sky. The stars were shining brightly, the moon reflecting off the lake. It was a beautiful sight, one that could only be seen from my room.

I tore my eyes from the picturesque scene back to my desk where I was in the middle of trying to write letters - one to my boss and one to my family - both failing miserably. It was awkward for me to be writing letters to them as I barely remembered them. I couldn't remember the details of how I left without referencing my journal, which sat in the corner of the desk, open to pages I didn't remember writing.

I stood up, frustrated by the whole ordeal. I didn't know what to do. I felt like I needed to write to them, even though those letters to me were written long ago. I was struggling with the idea of responding and letting it go. I decided that I needed a second opinion.

I left my room and headed across the hotel to the other side where the officers were staying. I climbed the stairs to where Speirs's room was and knocked on it. I waited for a while, but the silence told me that he wasn't inside. I sighed in defeat. I turned on my heel to leave and spied Nixon walking up.

"Hey Jane, looking for Speirs?" he asked, motioning to his door.

I nodded. "Yeah, but he's not in there."

"I know, I saw him earlier," he replied. He looked at me, clearly seeing my distress. "You okay? Need to get something off your chest?"

I shook my head. "It's okay...I'll figure it out."

"I've been told I'm a good listener," he said. "If you ever need to talk about something."

I bit my lip, hesitating a moment before saying, "Actually, there is a bit of a problem..."

He motioned for me to follow him. "Step into my office." I followed him into his room. I looked around and saw just how messy he was. I was uncomfortable with the mess. He cleared a chair for me to sit in. I sat down and he started to pour himself a drink. "Drink?"

I looked at the glass he had extended and shrugged. "Sure, why not."

"That's the spirit," he laughed, pouring another glass. He handed it over to me, which I took. I took a swig of it, feeling the burn in my throat and coughing fits overtook me. He smacked me on the back between my shoulder blades. "You okay there? It's strong stuff, ain't it?"

I coughed a few more times, nodding. I wasn't used to drinking anything quite this potent. I put the glass down on the table and composed myself. The burning sensation and left my throat and started working on my stomach. It made me feel sick.

Nixon asked, "So, what's on your mind?"

I watched him take a swig of the potent and vile alcohol. "I got a stack of letters today."

"Good letters?" he asked. He added, "I guess not, or else this wouldn't be the topic of conversation."

I shook my head. "A lot of them were from The Times...I guess I might not have a job to go home to since I was silent for so long...but what's more troubling are the letters from home."

He finished his glass and stood up to refill his glass. "What's wrong back home?"

I replied, "From what my journal said, I left home not on good terms with my family...and the letters I got make me wonder if I'm even going to be welcomed back."

He furrowed his brow at me. "What did they say?" I told him the short version of the letters. He ran a hand through his hair. "I see what you mean. That's a rough situation."

"What do you think I should do? I was going to write them letters, but I can barely remember details without my journal. Should I tell them that in the letters? Explain why things went silent?" I asked.

Nixon mulled it over before saying, "If they can't be understanding of what you went through here, then fuck 'em."

I blinked at his comment. "What?"

"Fuck 'em. All of 'em," he repeated. He took a swig from his glass and continued, "They have no idea what you've been through. So, you don't have a job anymore. Take the pictures you have and give them to the highest seller. Fuck The Times." He set his glass down and sat down across from me at the table. "If your family can't trust your decision and reasons for taking that job and coming here, and if they believe random strangers over you, then fuck 'em."

I smirked. "Fuck 'em?"

He laughed. "That's what I'd do...then again, my wife wrote me to ask for a divorce..."

"What?" I asked, clearly not expecting him to share that with me.

He nodded. "Yeah, she's taking everything. I've come to terms with it, but when I first learned about it, I wasn't happy. But now...I say fuck her."

My eyes grew wide. He saw my face and shook his head, letting another laugh loose. He added, "Don't get me wrong, I'm saying it now, but I know that if I saw her in the flesh, I might be begging her to reconsider."

I sat there, thinking over his words. I wasn't sure that I could have that outlook but he did make some sense. I shouldn't have to explain myself to people who have decided not to understand me. It was a pointless endeavor.

Nixon cleared his throat, suddenly growing serious. "Things happen for a reason, Jane. We may not know or understand the situation when we're going through it, but in all honesty, there's a reason you're going through this. Just...take solace in the fact that something better is usually right around the corner."

Things happen for a reason. I wasn't sure I believed that. How could I? After everything that I had endured this whole war, what would the reason behind it be? I've managed to lose my family, my job, my memory, friends, and possibly Roe. There was nothing positive about this statement for me. At least, none that I could see.

I left Nixon's room and wandered about in the square again. The night air was chilly but calming. I sat down and looked up at the night sky again. I released a heavy sigh. I felt more lost here than I had in my life.

It suddenly dawned on me that the person that I was before all of this happened, was a stronger more confident and resilient person. Now, I was this broken woman who was doubting every little thing. I wasn't convinced that the person that I was now was a better person than who I was before. I felt like I was the only one who was scared, lost inside of myself. I was watching my old self fade away and it left this void - this scared little girl who had no one to help her. There was no escape from this feeling.

You're alone here, the voice in my head taunted. It sounded like Sauer. You're never going to be accepted back home. I closed my eyes, trying to shut the voice up. If only you had told me what I wanted to know, maybe then you'd still have a life to go home to. I grimaced at the words echoing in my head. No one will love a victim of war. You brought this on yourself, you stupid bitch.

"Jane?" a voice asked softy.

I will get what I want from you...one way or another.

"Jane?" the voice asked again.

No one is coming for you...truly.

I felt hands on my shoulders. "Jane?"

I jerked myself away from the hands touching me; my eyes flying open and my hands coming up to defend myself.

Standing before me, hands raised defensively was Roe. He eyed me cautiously before asking, "You okay?"

I sighed. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Sorry."

He lowered his hands. "What are you doing out here?"

"I was thinking," I stated, blinking myself back to reality. The voices in my head were quiet for now.

Roe sat down next to me. "Thinking about what?"

I replied, "I got some letters this afternoon. A lot of them were from my job back home, and some were from home."

He said, "I'm assuming it's not good."

I nodded. "I don't think I have a job anymore and my family informed me that I'm no longer welcome there." I looked at my hands. "I spoke with Nixon about the letters."

Roe seemed surprised that I had spoken with Nixon. "What did he have to say?"

"Fuck 'em," I stated.

His eyes widened. "What?"

"That's what he said I should do. He said that I shouldn't have to explain myself to people who are determined to misunderstand me," I replied. "I was trying to write letters to them, explaining what happened to me, try to mend the bridges but I couldn't figure out how to do it. So, Nixon told me to forget them."

Roe sighed. "That's rough. I can't imagine having to deal with something like that."

I asked, "What happens after the war is over?"

Roe thought for a moment. "We go home. We live life as best as we can."

I felt my heart ache by his words. I didn't have a home to go back to. That was what was bothering me this whole time. I had nothing waiting back home.

He must have seen my face because he stated, "Just because the people in your life have decided to let you go, doesn't mean that you have to go back to them. Your whole life is now opened to you to do what you want." I looked over at him. He added, "What do you want to do when this is over?"

I shook my head. "I don't know. It's not that simple."

"Why is it difficult? What do you want? Where do you see yourself?" he asked.

I sighed. "I'm not sure what I want." He nodded, giving up with his prodding.

I wondered if he knew that I was lying. There was a part of me that so badly wanted to tell him that I wanted to be with him. I wanted to go home with him, start living a new life, hand in hand with him. I hesitated in telling him the truth because I wasn't sure he had the same desire.

After losing my memory, he so desperately wanted me to remember things that transpired between us, things that I couldn't remember. He eventually agreed to let go of whatever happened between us and move forward. I was a different person than the one he clearly loved before. I wasn't convinced that he loved the version I was today. I didn't want to assume he'd want me coming home with him.

Roe glanced up at the night sky. "Have you ever been to Louisiana?"

I shook my head. "No. I've never left New York before all this."

He licked his lips, clearly in thought. "If you're looking for a change of scenery, you could always come with me. There's a lot of opportunity there."

I felt butterflies in my stomach. This was the first good news that I had heard all day. I smiled.

Roe stated, "And for what it's worth, I think that he's right."

"Who? Nixon?" I asked.

He nodded. "You don't owe anyone an explanation. If they choose to abandon you, then you're better off." I didn't say anything but nodded. He stood up, held out his hand for mine. "Let's go to bed."

I woke up, stretching as I allowed my eyes to adjust to the morning sunlight. I released a heavy sigh, dropping my arms above my head as I stared up at the ceiling. I smiled, thinking over the events of last night with Eugene. I turned to see if he was still in bed, but he had already left. He left behind a note on his pillow. I rolled over slightly, reaching for the note.

"Good morning. Had to go to work. See you later. I love you."

I smiled wide, rereading his note over and over again. I kissed the paper and sat up in bed, allowing the covers to fall from my upper body. I saw my scars and bruises were healing nicely. Soon, they would be just a bad memory.

I stood up and headed into the bathroom. When I emerged, I was fully dressed. I gathered my hair and pulled it back into a ponytail.

I turned to the balcony and saw that the door to the balcony was left open. I furrowed my brow at it. I could have sworn that I had closed and locked it before we went to bed last night.

I walked towards the door, suddenly on guard. All the hair on my body started to stand at attention. I felt sick. Something wasn't right. I stopped a few feet from the door, staring through the lacy window covering, hoping to see something or someone on the other side.

As I stood there staring, I heard faint noise from behind me. I glanced over my shoulder. Nothing was there. I listened again for the noise. It happened again. I realized that it sounded like someone was locked inside the closet. I felt torn about which door I should be more concerned with.

I finally chose to look in the closet. As I neared the door, the scraping of fingers against the wooden door were louder. I could hear muffled cries and screams emanating from within. With shaky hands, I reached for the brass handle. The moment my hand touched the handle, I recoiled. The handle was red hot to the touch. I lowered my jacket sleeve and tried again. The door flew open, hitting the wall opposite.

The room began filling with a noxious gas. It invaded my lungs, burning me from within. I began coughing, unable to catch my breath. I saw claw marks on the inner side of the closet door, as though someone was trying desperately to get out. I choked on the air I was trying to obtain unsuccessfully.

I saw bodies of the prisoners crammed into my closet. There was a pile of ash beneath them. Most were grabbing their throats, but others were just lifeless.

At that moment, I realized that I needed to escape from my room before I died from this gas. I began to crawl towards the open balcony door. As I crawled, I felt hands grabbing my ankles, trying to prevent my escape. When I turned to kick whatever was holding me back, I was face to face with Marta.

Marta was coughing up blood, blue eyes blackened and swollen. She was grasping at my legs, pulling me back into the room. I kicked at her, trying desperately to get loose from her hold. She sank her nails into my calves. I wanted to scream out in pain, but I couldn't even breathe as it was. I could feel myself losing consciousness.

I kicked and kicked at her, backing up towards the balcony as I fought. I finally managed to knock her grip on me off. I quickly scurried towards the open door. As I neared it, I could see a hand reaching into the room, offering me help. I reached for the hand, and was pulled up to my feet and out into the world of clean air.

Outside, I inhaled a deep breathe of fresh air, coughing madly as the damage escaped my body. I turned to thank my rescuer, only to be met with familiar angry eyes that belonged to Sauer. My eyes widened.

Before I could react, he grabbed me and pushed me against the railing of the balcony. I could feel the railing moving from behind my back. It was only a matter of time before it gave away from the weight. I clawed at Sauer, trying to get him off of me before we both took a plunge over.

He hissed at me as he tightened his grip on my throat and arm. He was determined to kill me. I was losing this battle and he knew it. He laughed at me, taunting me, knowing that I was giving up.

Just as I was about to accept my fate, I felt the railing give way, sending both of us over, falling into the forest below.


	36. The Lost Get Found

I woke up to the feeling of falling. When I landed hard with a thud, I was immediately covered by the blankets from the bed. I was breathing heavy as I pushed myself up into a seated position, leaning up against the bed. I was shaking and brushed the tears from my cheeks away.

I sat on the floor, tangled in the covers, trying to calm myself down. I heard footsteps carefully approaching me from the other side of the room. I watched as bare feet stopped in front of me.

"Jane? What happened?' the familiar tone of Eugene's voice asked.

I blinked up at him. I sniffled, trying to keep from crying again. "Bad dream."

He gave me an empathetic look and reached out to help me up and back into bed. "Want to talk about it?"

I shook my head. I honestly just wanted to forget all about it, even though my brain was replaying most of it inside my mind.

"You are safe, Jane...You know that, right?" he asked.

"I don't want to talk about it, okay?" I said. "I just want you to hold me."

He nodded, climbing into bed next to me, embracing me into the safety of his arms. "You're shaking..." I didn't say anything. I just placed my head on his chest, listening to the comfort of his beating heart.

I didn't sleep that night. I couldn't get that nightmare out of my mind. I waited patiently until Eugene had fallen asleep. Once he was fast asleep, I carefully escaped his hold and quietly climbed out of the bed, dressing silently in the dark. I grabbed my boots and my things and headed out of the room into the hallway.

The whole place seemed asleep, except for me. I sat down on the stairs and put my boots on, securing them to my feet. I grabbed my bag, slinging it over my shoulder before standing up and heading down the stairs.

Once I was outside, I took a deep breath in, holding it for a moment before allowing it to escape my lips. The cool air kissed my skin, creating goose bumps. I pulled my jacket a little closer around me as I started to walk about the grounds.

It was peaceful outside, hardly another person about. For whatever reason, I felt more relaxed in this moment than I had in quite a while. I didn't have that feeling of needing to look over my shoulder, even though I knew that there were still plenty of dangers still lurking about.

After walking along the shores of the lake nearby, I found a secluded spot and sat down. The water was calm, the moon reflecting off the surface, creating amazing sparkles on the small ripples caused by the breeze. I watched it for a while before something overtook me.

I felt this sudden urge to write in my journal. I hadn't written anything since losing my memory, nor had I written anything since my capture. But for whatever reason, in this moment, in this place, I felt overwhelmed with that need. It felt like it was important that I do it.

In the dark, with only the moon as my light, I pulled out my journal and dug around in my bag for a writing utensil. I felt about the bottom of the bag, hoping that this feeling wouldn't pass as I searched. I also was worried that if I didn't have a pen or pencil, that I wouldn't lose this urge to write...I didn't want this moment to slip through my fingers.

With luck, I felt the familiar shape of a pen and pulled it out. I opened the worn journal and placed it on my lap, flipping through the pages to a blank one. That sense of urgency had come to me again as I put the pen to the paper. Within moments of writing the first couple of words, everything flowed out of me, unfiltered, unstoppable. I wrote until my hand cramped. I would shake it out and continue with my writing.

Page after page, I kept writing. By the time I was finished, the sun was just beginning to rise over the horizon. I had used a good portion of the journal, and my pen was dying. When I closed the book, I sighed a breath of relief.

I was amazed at what I managed to write. It was everything that I was feeling, everything I was afraid to say, and it told of my story - the parts that I could remember. I wondered if this would help me move on with my life, letting go of all that had happened to me, allow me to sleep at night without the terrifying nightmares. Even if it didn't, I knew that this had to be done. My story had to be written down. I needed to have it out of my head, so if I did forget, I'd have it to remind me. I felt that it was important to remember this part of my life so that I could remember that I was once strong enough to survive horrible things.

I rubbed my eyes with the palms of my hands before putting my things back into my bag. I glanced back out on the lake, seeing the world come to life before me. It was a new day. I was one of the lucky ones. It was funny to me how these moments made you reevaluate your life and appreciate it more.

I forced myself to stand up and begin the walk back towards the hotel. I was sure that Eugene would be awake now, and most likely worried about me as I didn't leave him a note as he had for me in the past. I was in such a hurry to get out of the hotel that it had slipped my mind.

As I approached the stairs that led up to the hotel entrance, I could see Eugene heading my way, worry written on his face, as I expected.

"Are you okay?" he asked. I was surprised that he wasn't asking me where I was first. I nodded. "Thank God!" He pulled me into a tight embrace. He grabbed my shoulders, pushing me to arms length as he looked into my eyes. "You had me worried."

"I'm sorry. I forgot to leave a note," I admitted. "I just...I just had to get out of there for a while."

He asked, "Because of the nightmare?"

"Yeah," I replied. "And because I just needed some time to think."

He nodded. "Did you?"

I smiled. "Yeah, I did." I patted my bag. "I managed to write a lot too."

He eyed the bag before looking back at me. "How do you feel?"

I thought for a moment before saying, "Lighter. Relief."

The worry washed away from his face and was replaced with a warm smile. "Glad to hear it."

"I'm sorry about last night," I started.

He shook his head. "Don't be. If I were you, I'd probably have the same things happening to me. You don't have to be sorry about that." I nodded at his words. He asked, "Are you hungry?" When I nodded again, he grabbed my hand and said, "Come with me. Let's get some food."

As Eugene and I sat down outside with our breakfast, we were approached by Sink and another officer. Sink stopped beside us. "I'd hate to bother you while you're eating, Miss Finley, but we were hoping you could look over a few more photographs today."

I glanced between the two of them. "Sure...when were you-"

The other officer chimed in, cutting me off. "Now, if you don't mind. We're on a schedule."

Sink had given the other officer a disapproving look, but remained silent. I nodded. "Sure...I guess now is fine."

Sink extended a file of photos to me. I carefully opened the folder on my lap. The first photo was of the men huddled in their foxholes in Bastogne. Most didn't have proper snow gear, which seemed to come at a shock to the officer standing beside Sink.

The next image was of the women that I had given my bread to in Foy, the ones that Fritz had told me might be killed if they were caught with the morsels.

I explained the photos as I saw them, if I knew what it was that I was looking at. There were quite a few that I still didn't remember taking at all.

There were quite a few pictures of rubble and ruined buildings in places I couldn't begin to know where they were. There were even pictures of perished men, from both sides, that I didn't recognize faces.

I could tell that the other officer was growing impatient with me as I couldn't explain much. When I turned to the next photo, I smiled warmly at the image that was before me. The picture showed Winters and Nixon standing next to each other, smiling at the camera. It looked like it was taken before the jump.

There was a picture of three men, one of whom was Roe. He was sitting up against a wall, reading a book, while the other two were smoking, sitting nearby. When I admitted that I didn't remember taking this photo, Sink had asked Roe about it. Eugene had stated that it was shortly after the destruction of the battery at Brecourt.

There were a lot of pictures of the men, most were no longer with us. It broke my heart thinking about these men, seeing their faces, and knowing that I wouldn't be able to name many of them.

One of the last photos in the pile was of the men sitting on top of a mountain, drinking. I furrowed my brow at this one because I didn't have a clue as to where this was. Roe had chimed in to explain that he had my camera at the time, didn't want me to lose my job and had taken the photograph. He explained that it was after they captured the Eagle's Nest and the men were celebrating by drinking from Hitler's wine collection. Sink had smirked at the image, but the other officer was less than amused.

The next picture, I recognized Talbert, but not the man with him, nor the two women standing beside them. The women looked happy, so I said that it must have been right after D-Day given how the men were dressed with all of their gear and musette bags.

I realized that the more that I saw the pictures and the more that I tried to remember and talk about them, the more I actually could remember things. I never would have remembered the musette bag. After a while, however, the images started to blend together and I began to get lost in the pictures.

Sink took the folder back and thanked us for our time, leaving with the other officer. We turned back to our now very cold breakfast. I asked Eugene, "Did you recognize that officer?"

"No," he admitted. "Probably someone from Division who wanted explanations behind the photos."

I nodded. "Probably." For whatever reason, I wasn't sure why my photos mattered so much to them. None of those photos had anything of great value or importance to them. At least, none that I could see.

When we finished eating our cold breakfast, we started to walk towards the hospital so that Roe could get to work. When we were just outside, I asked, "How long do you think you'll be today?"

He shrugged. "I never know how long I will be. I'm sorry. I wish I could tell you."

I forced a smile. "It's okay. They need you. I'll see you later."

He gave my hand a reassuring, gentle squeeze before turning and heading into the building, leaving me alone in the street. Once he was inside, I turned and headed back towards the hotel, unsure of what I was going to do.

As I neared the hotel, I saw a few men talking to a group of well dressed people. I continued walking towards them and overheard them asking questions and writing the answers given into notebooks. Behind them, taking pictures, was a woman in a combat uniform. I narrowed my eyes at her.

She glanced up from her camera and met my gaze. She looked just as confused as me. She didn't hesitate and came over to me. "I'm sorry, I don't think we've been introduced yet. I'm Daisy." She extended her hand towards me, offering a handshake.

I hesitated in reaching for her hand, but did so anyways. "I'm Jane."  
Her dark eyes widened. "Jane? As in Jane Finley?"

I tilted my head at her remark. "Yes?"

"You're supposed to be dead," she remarked.

I raised an eyebrow at her, but then remembered the letters that I had received a few days earlier. "Let me guess, Bradley got impatient? Hired someone else?"

She nodded slightly. "Something like that. He said that you were killed...that he hadn't gotten anything from you in a while, and the position was open."

"How much did he offer you to fill the spot?" I questioned.

She smiled, seemingly proud of what she was about to tell me. "He's offering me $3 a picture, plus a $30 sign-on bonus. He said that he'd use all of my photos." I let a short chuckle out, unintentionally. She asked, "What? Why are you laughing?"

"How old are you, Daisy?" I asked.

"Old enough," she stated, hands on her hips. When she saw that I was seriously asking, she dropped her hands. "16."

"I thought you were young," I stated. "You were used, Daisy, by Bradley."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

I replied, "You must not have countered on the offer. He's paying you pennies compared to what he offered to me." When I saw her face fall, clearly reminiscing over the day she took the job, I asked, "Do you get to keep the camera?" She shook her head. I asked, "How long have you been here?"

She thought for a moment. "A few months, maybe?"

I nodded. I knew that he had sent my own 'replacement' when I was captured in Foy, possibly since the entire time in Bastogne. There was no way of really knowing.

I could feel my blood boiling with anger because of how Bradley treated this girl - how he had treated me - but the difference for me was that I was strong enough, at least then, to stand up for myself and call him out on his misogynistic behaviors. I wasn't sure how to handle this situation, or what to tell this poor girl.

She broke my thoughts by asking, "So, what now?"

I blinked back to her. "You do your job."

"You mean, your job," she stated.

I shook my head. "Don't worry about me. Focus on why you're here. Earn your money. I'll handle the situation on my end." She nodded. I quickly added, "Just don't mention me to Bradley. I want him to be surprised when he sees me."

She smiled. "Like rising from the dead?"

I laughed. "Something like that."

I was just about to walk away when she grabbed my arm to stop me. I felt the rush of panic set in, flashbacks of Sauer, Lange, and other soldiers grabbing me washed over me. I recoiled from her touch. I saw her face of concern and I muttered, "Sorry."

She gracefully let it go but asked, "Do you mind if I ask...what happened to you? I mean, I was told you were dead...but you're not..."

I sighed. "I... well... To be honest, I guess you could say that the girl that walked out of Bradley's office is dead." She waited for me to continue. Fritz's words came back to me and they seemed fitting. "War changes you. It has a habit of turning you into someone else - someone you wouldn't even recognize. I guess you could say that that is what happened to me."

She nodded slowly, taking in my words, but said, "There are rumors that you were captured and tortured." I looked into her dark eyes. She asked quietly, "Is that true?"

I shifted in my spot, releasing a heavy sigh. "Yes. It's true."

Her eyes grew wide. "Oh...I thought...maybe they were just trying to scare me. What did you do? How'd you escape?"

"I didn't," I stated. I didn't want to tell this girl anything. I didn't know her, and I didn't trust her. I tried to walk away, but she stepped in front of me. I was growing uneasy and rigid.

"But what happened? How did you-"

I cut her off. "Listen, I'm not trying to be rude here, but I don't want to talk to you about this. Just know that there are still dangers present. Don't be stupid, keep your guard up, and stick close to your men." I brushed passed her, leaving her standing there alone wondering what happened to the girl who was supposed to be dead.

My fears were confirmed. My boss had thought me dead and replaced me. I no longer had a job to go home to. I was beginning to feel the rising panic set in about how this would impact me now - would Sink send me home if he found out that I was no longer a wartime photographer? I'm now considered a civilian. I wasn't sure what to expect, but I was scared.

I began to wonder if my feelings about my family were true too, now that this Bradley situation had turned out to be real. Whatever it was, I couldn't focus on it...I didn't want to. I knew that if I kept wondering and kept fixating on it, I'd drive myself mad. I was already close to madness with trying to remember things from before my accident. I didn't need one more thing to drive me to that brink.

I glanced around the square, wondering what to do with myself. I needed a distraction - something that would get me to stop thinking about Bradley and my family. As I looked around, I spied Daisy. She was looking for someone and when she spotted me, her face lit up and she began heading towards me. I muttered under my breath, "No. You're not a distraction."

I quickly moved on, trying to calmly dodge out of her view and hide. I did not want to have another conversation with her about my war experiences. She may be a nice kid, but I did not want to deal with her.

I turned the corner and bumped into a strong frame. I looked up and met the familiar eyes of Speirs. "Jane."

"Oh, Speirs...sorry," I said, trying to get around him.

He placed his hands on my shoulders. "Where are you going in such a hurry?"

I quickly glanced around the corner to see how far Daisy was from finding me. "I'm hiding from someone."

He sounded amused. "Hiding?"

I turned back around to look at his face. "My replacement is here...she's been asking questions. I'm trying to lose her."

He laughed. It was the first time I had actually heard him laugh in a playful way. My eyes widened at the laugh. He motioned for me to follow him. I obeyed.


	37. What About Now?

Speirs had led me along the lake to a small dock where a little boat had been neatly tied to the edge. He hopped in. "You coming?" I carefully climbed into the rocking boat and sat down. He swiftly untied the boat from the dock and began rowing us out into the middle of the lake.

As soon as we were far enough away from the dock and the shore, I released a breath that I didn't know that I was holding. "Thanks for the timely rescue."

He smiled a half smile. "You bumped into me, remember?"

I smirked. "Still. Thank you. I don't think that she'll find us out here."

"Want to tell me why she's taken such an interest to you?" he asked, as he continued to row about the lake.

I stated, "My boss at The Times sent her here. She claims that she's been here a few months, possibly more...that's about the time that I was-"

He finished my sentence for me. "In Foy."

I nodded. "Yeah. So...they must have assumed that I was dead since I wasn't sending anything back for development."

Speirs nodded, filling in the gaps. "What does she want from you?"

"To tell her all the details of why a dead girl rose from the grave," I mused. "I don't want to tell her anything."

"Good for you," he said, pulling the oars up to allow us to sit on the calm water. "You don't owe her an explanation. You don't even need to tell your boss. He's the one who assumed you were dead. There was nothing official sent to him to say otherwise."

I looked down at my feet, releasing a short laugh. "He's using her. He's paying her so much less compared to what he gave me." I looked up at him. "I don't know...maybe you were right...I just take the rolls of film with me and give them to the highest bidder."

He smiled. "That's what I would do. He's not the only newspaper back home."

I gazed out at the water. It was calming. I felt safe. Nothing could touch me out here.

"I have to ask..." Speirs started. I turned my attention back to him. "How are you doing since..."

"Since the torture?" I asked. He nodded solemnly. I looked at my fingers that were once broken. They were still bent funny, but they worked. I thought for a moment before saying, "I'm struggling, to be honest."

He furrowed his brow. "Struggling how?"

I bit the inside of my lip. "I'm having pretty horrific nightmares. They wake me up at night. I'm having flashbacks when someone says something, or touches me." I scratched the back of head, feeling uncomfortable. "I don't know...I just...I don't know."

Speirs studied me for a moment. "What's Doc say?"

"He's been there for some of the nightmares but he hasn't really said anything. I'm not even sure that he fully understands what I'm going through," I stated. "I haven't really told him either."

"Why not?" he asked.

I shrugged. "He's busy. I don't want him to worry about me... pick one. Besides," I inhaled deeply before continuing, "What is he going to do anyways?"

Speirs leaned forward. "It doesn't matter what he can do...but you need to feel like he's there for you. That's it. It's that simple. You need to be able to feel as though there is someone there for you."

"Aren't you?" I interjected.

He smiled. "Yes, but what happens after?"

"After what?" I asked.

"After the war. I'm not going to be there for you then," he stated. "You need to talk to him. If anything, it will help you learn how to talk about it, how to deal with those demons."

I thought about what he was telling me. It made sense to me, but I was still scared. I wasn't sure if I would ever be able to tell Roe what I had been through. It was different for me to tell Speirs everything. He was the kind of man who wouldn't change his thoughts about me. He wasn't the kind of man who would shy away from the gritty details about what I went through. In fact, he had already figured out a lot more of what happened to me than anyone else had. Roe was too gentle, too sweet of a disposition to handle those images if I were to put them into his head. I worried that it might destroy any and all hope for a future with him.

Speirs saw my struggle. He sat back and stated, "If he can't accept you now for what you've been through, and if he can't understand that you weren't to blame for any of those things, then he isn't the one for you, Jane."

I nodded that I had heard him. After a moment of silence, I stated, "I managed to write about it."

Speirs turned his attention from the water back to me. "All of it?"

I nodded. "Everything that I could remember about before being captured and everything during to now. I wrote it all down."

He asked, "Did it help you?"

I shrugged. "I feel a little...relieved."

"But you're still struggling," he pointed out.

I nodded. "Yeah."

"Have you told anyone what you really went through?" he asked.

I thought for a moment. "Bits and pieces to Colonel Sink whenever he has pictures for me to look over, assuming I remember what it is that I'm looking at, but as for the full story... I only told one person about the torture."

"Who was that?" Speirs inquired.

"The local who gave me a lift to Hagenau," I stated. "It was my way of thanking him." I saw the look on his face and added, "He had asked a couple of times and since I couldn't pay him for his help, it seemed like the right thing to do."

Speirs nodded as he understood what I had said. "But you haven't told anyone close to you." It wasn't a question, but a statement. "Maybe if you told someone you know, it will help you feel less alone."

I thought about what he was saying. "Maybe you're right..."

"I sense a 'but' coming," he admitted.

I smiled. "But...I worry about how it will impact those I tell." He was about to interject, but I added, "Not everyone is you."

He furrowed his brow at me. "What does that mean?"

I explained, "You could handle the details. I don't think that Eugene could, or Grant, or Winters...I don't know how it will impact them personally."

He nodded slowly. "I understand. But you do have to do something for yourself. If that means trusting those around you to listen to your story, then that is what you have to do. Don't worry about what they will do or how it will impact you or your relationship with them. That's not your responsibility. You are your responsibility. Nothing more."

I watched as he looked back across the lake's glistening surface. I looked down at my bag and placed a hand on it, feeling the outline of the journal within. I reached in and pulled it out, staring at the worn leather cover. I asked, "Would you read it?" He looked over at me, meeting my gaze as I extended the journal to him. I repeated, "Would you?"

He blinked down at the journal and took it from me. Without saying another word, he flipped to the beginning of the most recent entry as he had already read everything else and began to read the words that scared me the most.

As he read in silence, no emotion showing on his face, I shifted uncomfortably in my spot, looking out at the water's surface, getting lost in the sparkling reflected light.

The bright light shone into my face, blinding me. I blinked at the sudden illumination, trying to see the figure behind the light. When the shadow moved closer to me, I could hear a familiar voice speaking to me. "You know something, something important. I need to know what you know, and I'm going to do everything within my power to get it out of you."

"I don't know anything," I whimpered.

"I don't believe you," the voice stated, moving closer to me.

Another shadow appeared where the first had been to start. "How do you propose getting her to talk?" the second voice asked.

The shadows moved closer to me, getting darker as they neared. "I'll gut her if I have to...rip it out of her, piece by piece," the first voice answered.

I swallowed hard. "Please, I don't know anything."

"I don't believe you," the first voice stated again.

The light reflected off of something shiny, catching my attention. "What's that?"

"This? This is going to help me get what I'm looking for," the first voice stated. "It might hurt as I go searching, just to warn you."

As the shadows loomed over me, blocking the blindly light above me, I was face to face with Sauer and Marta. I flinched, trying to recoil from their closeness, but I couldn't move.

"This might sting just a little," Sauer taunted me, just before he jabbed the knife into my side. He left the blade in my side as he moved away, reaching for something else.

I looked at Marta, pleading with her silently. She just stared down at me.

Marta asked, "Why do you hold onto your secret? Why do you suffer?"

"I don't have any secrets, Marta...You know this," I cried. "You know this...you were with me in that shed...you know I have nothing to hide!"

Another scream escaped my lips when I felt another sharp stab in my side. Sauer loomed over me again. "I know a liar when I hear one."

Another jab, another scream.

Sauer moved out of view and Marta leaned close, whispering in my ear, "I'm working with the Resistance, and he'll never know because you refuse to tell him."

I blinked the tears away from my eyes. "Don't make me do this..."

She hissed, "You're a stupid girl, Jane. Freedom is right in front of you...you know what you have to do but you won't do it."

"I don't betray friends!" I sobbed.

She started to back away from me. "Since when are we friends?"

The blinding light engulfed me again, but I noticed a new shadow standing behind the light. As it moved, I could tell that it was different from Sauer's or Marta's frame.

The silent shadow came around to my left side before blocking out the light. It was Lange. He glared down at me.

I begged, "I don't know anything...please, help me..." He reached down and held my hand. I squeezed it. "Please..."

He broke my finger. He continued breaking my fingers, one after the other, and even when I cried and begged him to stop, he broke my wrist. He continued up my arm, breaking the bones as he went. Screams filled my ears...my screams.

When he finished breaking all the bones along my left arm and hand, he reached for the blades that were still sticking out of my side. I cried, "Please! Stop!"

He twisted the blades around, grinding them against the ribs. When he stopped twisting them, I heard the familiar voice of Sauer somewhere in the room, "Tell me what I want to know."

"What? What do you want?" I begged.

He replied, "Who are you now?"

"No one..." I breathed. "I'm no one."

He laughed. "Finally, a truthful statement." Suddenly, his face was inches from mine. "I want to know what your role is here."

"I have no role. No purpose..." I cried. "I'm dead."

Laughter filled the room. When it got quiet again, I heard Sauer say, "You're never going to be free of me, Jane, not even in death.. I'll always be there in the shadows and dark recesses of you life...forever torturing you, silently killing you...forever."

I closed my eyes, feeling tears streaming down my face as the light engulfed me again.

"Jane?"

I blinked away the tears as I tore my eyes away from the glistening lake. I turned back to Speirs, who was looking at me concerned. "What?"

He narrowed his eyes at me. "You okay?"

I wiped the tears that fell down my cheek away. "Fine."

He could tell that I wasn't, but chose not to say anything in this moment, for which I was grateful. He extended the book back to me. I took it and he said, "Thank you for sharing it with me."

I placed the book on my lap and asked, "That's it?"

"What do you want me to say?" he asked.

"Do you have any thoughts...or..." I drifted off.

He shifted in his spot. "No. No thoughts."

I looked up at him. He offered a small warm smile. "I told you before that I had already pieced together what happened. Even reading your words is not enough to scare me away. You were right about me. I'm not the kind of person who would look at you differently because of what you went through."

I sniffled, nodding in understanding as I put the book back into the safety of my bag.

He added, "I still think you need to tell Doc. He might be able to help you better than me." I wasn't so sure. He said, "Telling him what you've been through might even help you with your flashbacks." My eyes shot up to meet his. He reached for the oars. "Let's get you back before the storm moves in."

I didn't say anything more, but looked up to see dark ominous clouds rolling in. I found a little comfort in seeing the weather mimicking my mood.

I opened the door to Roe's room. He was already inside. Our eyes met and I could see the worry filling the void. I offered him a smile, but he didn't return it. He didn't budge from his spot at the foot of the bed.

I stepped forward after closing the door behind me. "How long have you been waiting?"

"A few hours," he admitted. "I went looking for you, but couldn't find you. Turns out, no one had seen you since I left you this morning."

I lowered my head, almost ashamed. "I'm sorry."

"You've got to stop doing that," he said. "Stop apologizing...you didn't do anything wrong, but do you have any idea how worried I've been?"

I sighed. "You tell me not to apologize, but that's what you're expecting me to do right now...I'm sorry that I worried you. I am."

"Where were you?" he asked, crossing his arms across his chest.

I shifted in my spot. "I was with Speirs."

"Again?" he asked. His voice wasn't laced with jealousy, but almost a concern that I hadn't experienced with him before.

I nodded. "It wasn't planned. I was hiding from my replacement and he found the perfect spot to hide away."

"Your replacement?" Roe repeated, clearly confused.

I explained, "Turns out that I was right about those letters from The Times. They think I'm dead. Sent some kid here to do the job. She kept asking me questions about how I'm alive and what happened to me. No matter where I went to get away from her, she always ended up finding me."

Roe nodded as he listened to me. He finally sighed, letting his arms fall to his sides. "I think I've seen her around, now that you mention it."

I studied him as the room was filled with awkward silences. He stood up and said, "I just wish that you would talk to me."

"How? You're never here," I pointed out. I immediately regretted saying those words the moment they brushed my mouth.

He let his head fall in defeat. "I know I haven't been around as much as you probably need me to be. I'm sorry for that, but I still have a job to do until we get to go home." He raised his head and added, "Besides, I'm here now."

I started to feel uncomfortable, but I remembered the conversation with Speirs. It was now or never with Roe. I had to tell him what happened to me, what I could remember, what I was still going through, while hoping and praying that he wouldn't see me differently and would still want to be with me. I nodded. "Okay."

"Okay?" he repeated. "Just like that?"

I nodded. "You're right. You are here right now. I need to do this. I have to do this." I approached him and gave him a tight hug, which he returned. "Just promise me that no matter what I tell you, no matter what you hear or read, you'll let me know if it's too much for you to stay with me. I don't want you to stay with me out of pity or whatever..."

He pulled away from me to gaze into my eyes. "I wouldn't do that to you. I just want to help you, however I can, and if that is to listen to you tell me the same story over and over again until you finally get over it, then that's what I'll do."

I smiled a short smile at him and sat down on the edge of the bed. He sat next to me. I took a deep breath in and said, "I want you to read something." I pulled out the journal and handed it to him. "When you're done, let's talk."

He nodded and looked at the old journal in his hands. "How much do you want me to read?"

"All of it," I said with a deep breath. He looked at me, making sure that I wanted him to do this, and I gave him a reassuring nod. "We have to do this, for us...for our future."

I watched as he opened the cover and started with the first page...the beginning of everything.


	38. A Face Like Mine

It took Roe all night to finish reading the journal. I had fallen asleep when he was still reading. He waited for me to wake up to tell me that he had finished the whole thing. I could see it on his face that he had been crying - whether they were tears of anger or sadness, I couldn't say. I had to keep reminding myself not to panic, not to flee because I was afraid of how he'd react, but instead, I mustered the courage that I needed to sit there across from him and talk about everything that he had just finished reading.

He had asked questions about the beginning, before my memory loss. He asked if I had any memory of things before, and I said that I had glimpses of things. The only pieces that I knew for sure were what was written down, what he had read, nothing more.

When he danced around the subject of my capture and torture, I knew that I had to take the reins. I could tell he wanted to ask me questions about it, but was almost too afraid to. When I started to talk to him about it, he started to open up to me, asking me what he wanted to know, and telling me that no matter what I said or what I had been through, he wasn't about to make me feel guilty for these things as none of it had been my fault. He admitted that he had no idea just how bad things had been for me, how bad things still were for me. He was comforting me in the darkest part of my life, giving me hope that one day this would be nothing more than a small chapter of my life, one to never repeat.

I explained to him about the flashbacks and the dreams. How they came almost out of nowhere, and the fact that even though I hadn't been in that small town of Foy, I was still being tortured. I told him about the dreams that I had, the voices in my head, and the times where people who touch me or say an innocent phrase and I would recoil in fear. He understood and offered me solace. It was more than I had expected from him.

We spent the entire morning and most of the afternoon talking about everything. I shared with him the conversation with Speirs on the lake while I was hiding from my replacement. I told him that Speirs was pushing me to talk to him, and that it would help me. I explained how terrified I was that what I had to say would destroy him and that if that were to happen, I wouldn't be able to live with myself. Roe reassured me that he'd never do that to me, that my experiences wouldn't destroy me.

He even told me that no matter what those voices were telling me, no matter what I was seeing in those flashbacks, they were wrong. I wasn't dead, I wasn't a nobody. I was loved, by more than just him, but others as well. I felt that hope grow with each hour that passed as we talked. I began to feel that calmness grow from within me.

When he asked me if I knew what had happened to Utzig, Fritz, and the others, I shook my head. They were still question marks to me. The only one that I knew for sure where he was, was Styne. I told him about Styne and all the talks he and I shared, even when I found him here. I told him that Styne had assured me that the others were still alive, but I had yet to see them. I also answered the question that was apparent on his face, which was in regards to Sauer and Marta. When I told him that I didn't know where they were, but that that was my biggest fear in all of this, he told me with confidence that I had nothing to worry about anymore. He wouldn't let them hurt me anymore, and I believed him.

I felt the need to make the mental reminder to thank Speirs for pushing me into talking to Roe. It was the right choice and it was what was needed to break that awkward silence that was looming overhead. It was what was needed for us to lay all of our cards on the table and move forward.

The next morning, Roe was still there in bed with me. I smiled at him as he woke up. He blinked a few times before he realized it was morning. "Hey," he started. "You didn't have any nightmares last night."

I chuckled. "I know..."

He wrapped his arms around me. "Do you think it's because of our talk?"

I shrugged as I nestled closer to him. "Could be. I don't know." I looked up at him. "Why are you still here? Don't you have to work?"

He sighed. "I thought this was more important."

Nodding, I whispered, "I just don't want you to get into trouble."

He kissed the top of my head. "I know. Which means that I should probably head in now." He unwrapped his arms from me and stood up, putting on his jacket and boots.

"How's Grant doing?" I asked.

He shrugged. "He seems to be getting better every day, but we still can't move him back home yet." He stood up, throwing his bag over his shoulder. "The doctors here think he's going to make it though, so it shouldn't be much longer before he gets to go home, I think."

I sat up and smiled. "I hope so. He deserves to go home."

Roe looked down at his feet, almost sad. "So do you."

I furrowed my brow at his statement. "Hey..." He glanced up to meet my gaze. I added, "I'm not going anywhere. "

He looked deep in thought, but said nothing more. He offered a forced smile before heading towards the door. "I'll see you later."

I watched as the door to his room closed behind him, leaving me alone with the memories of the night before.

He's never coming back to you, the voice inside my head taunted.

"Shut up," I muttered to myself, willing the voice to quiet down.

You went and told him everything...he doesn't want damaged goods - no one does. You're never going to be able to tell anyone anything.

I closed my eyes, trying hard to silence the voice that embodied Sauer. I stood up and grabbed my jacket, bag, and boots, putting them on. Once I was finished, I started out of the hotel.

Even if you were to confront him, he'd never tell you the truth. Must be the only thing you have in common...you're both liars.

I balled my hands into fists, digging my nails into the palms of my hands. I couldn't let this voice destroy me or break me. That would just continue to play into Sauer's hands and that was something I vowed never to do again.

I didn't get very far outside the hotel before I was greeted by Colonel Sink's assistant. "Miss Finley?"

I stopped and looked at him. "Yes?"

He said, "Colonel Sink would like to see you."

"More pictures?" I asked, almost bored. I was tired of these meetings.

"No, Ma'am," he said. "He wants you to meet someone."

I furrowed my brow at him. "Who?"

"I don't know, Ma'am," he admitted. "I didn't ask."

I followed the man towards Sink's office. When we entered the building, I noticed a lot of German's in uniform leaving. I had glanced at their faces to see if any of them were recognizable to me, but none of them were. Surprisingly, I felt my heart drop.

The soldier showed me to the door of Sink's office and motioned for me to enter. Once I crossed the threshold to the office, I was greeted by Sink, the unfriendly officer from before, and three people that wore different uniforms - two men and one woman.

Sink smiled warmly at me as he stood at the front of his desk. "Ah, Miss Finley. Glad you made it."

I forced a worried smile at him, glancing back at the unfamiliar people in the room with us. "Of course..."

The woman of the group was also eyeing me. I couldn't figure out why, but it was almost as if she knew me - or the very least, knew of me. As I looked her over, I noticed that we shared many similarities with each other. We were roughly the same build, height, weight before my torture, and our hair would have been very similar had Speirs not trimmed it down.

Sink stated, "First off, I want to thank you for helping us identify all of the pictures that you took for us. We've been able to put them to good use." I nodded, still frozen in my place, eyeing the three in the corner.

Sink turned his attention to the unfriendly officer who took over. He cleared his throat, causing me to turn my attention to him. He stated, "We've been gathering a lot of information about your capture - looking through the numerous photos, reading the letters and hearing accounts from those that were there-"

"Who?" I asked, cutting the man off mid sentence. I was curious as to who they had spoken to.

The man looked irritated at my interjection. "It doesn't matter right now." He shot me an angered look at Sink, but Sink shook his head, motioning for him to continue. He said, "They were looking for someone who was tied to the Resistance; a female photographer to be specific. The person they were looking for," he turned to the woman in the corner. My eyes followed his gaze. "Faye."

Faye and I locked eyes again. I asked, "What does this have to do with me?"

"They took you by mistake," Sink stated. He motioned to Faye. "They meant to capture her."

I felt silly that it was taking me so long to connect the dots. I looked from Sink to Faye again. She was still sizing me up from the looks she was giving me.

The officer stated, "We thought the two of you would like to meet. Get to know one another a little bit before," he motioned to the group of three, "they had to leave."

"Leave where?" I asked.

"Back to our country," Faye stated. I didn't know what to say or do. I stood there awkwardly before Faye took a step forward. "Shall we walk?"

I nodded and she brushed passed me towards the door. I quickly glanced back at Sink, looking for approval, which he nodded to me with a warm smile. I turned and followed the awaiting Faye outside.

We began our walk towards the lake. For a while, it was silent. Once we were by ourselves, Faye began to speak. "I am sorry to hear about your capture and torture."

"Thanks..." I began softly.

She admitted, "I can't even begin to imagine what you went through there." She looked at me and said, "If it means anything to you, you most likely have saved my life and several hundred others."

"How?" I asked.

She stopped, causing me to stop in turn. We looked at each other. She said, "If I had been the one captured, I do not think I would have been able to keep my wits about me, as you did."

"It's only because I didn't know anything," I admitted. "I'm not brave."

She smiled. "But you are. You could have lied, you could have done a lot of things, but you chose not to. Not many could do that."

She began walking again. I asked, "Are you a photographer then?"

She nodded. "I was a photographer before this all started."

"What happened?" I asked, with genuine interest.

She looked at her feet as she began speaking. "The Nazis recruited me to be their photographer, documenting their deeds." Utzig flashed before my eyes. He had also asked me to capture things...the truth, he called it. She continued, "When I saw a picture of my family dead in a mass grave, I joined the Resistance."

I looked at her. "I'm so sorry to hear about your family."

She nodded her thanks to me. She continued, "I joined a group of fellow prisoners that had escaped captivity. I trained as a nurse and still took pictures of the war and the atrocities that took place around us." She let out an amused laugh, adding, "They took my equipment so I led a raid on the place they were keeping it...took pictures of it too."

I chuckled at the imagery. She sat down on the bank of the lake. I followed her lead and sat next to her, gazing out along the lake's surface.

She stated, "We had gotten word that a young girl was taken prisoner. They thought it was me. They had pictures of this girl and when they saw me in the flesh, they realized it wasn't me." She pulled the photo out from her pocket and held it out for me to see.

The image showed all of the trucks from the convoy parked outside the town, while a group of men were escorting a girl around the town of Foy. Seeing the girl in the photograph, and knowing that it was me, I could see how they might have mistook me for Faye. If the only different between us was our uniform and our eye colors, then they wouldn't notice those differences from how far away the picture was taken.

She put the picture back into her breast pocket. "We immediately began running through our contacts, making sure no one was captured. It was only then that we had realized that you must have been one of the Allied forces." She turned to me. "If I had known that you were a civilian, we would have tried to get you out of there."

I lowered my gaze from the lake to my feet. For whatever reason, I felt ashamed, yet I knew that I had nothing to be ashamed of.

She added, "We know where Sauer and his wife are."

My head shot up at the mention of the names. "What?"

She held my stare. "They're the reasons why we didn't move in on that town. We knew they were looking for me. I couldn't take that risk, and for that I am truly sorry." I cringed at the word, 'truly' again. She continued, "We knew of your rescue and the escape of those two. We were able to keep track of them for a while. We lost them in Russia."

"Which is why you need to head back?" I asked. She nodded.

"They will most likely lay low until this war is well over before coming back out from hiding. When they do, we plan to be there," she stated.

"What were they looking for?" I asked. When Faye looked at me confused, I clarified. "He kept asking me who I worked for, who I was..."

When it was apparent that she had connected the dots, she stated, "Well, I can't tell you that...not now, anyways. But just know that you're safe now. He's long gone from here...he's not coming back for you."

"Why are you telling me this?" I asked.

She offered a warm smile. "I've seen it before. People who've been tortured usually come back broken, still tormented by the memories of those acts preformed on them." She stood up, offering her hand to me. I took it, and was pulled to my feet. She added, "I also want to tell you that your friends are also here."

"Friends?" I asked, confused.

She smiled. "Who do you think we got word from?" When I still showed signs of being confused, she stated, "Fritz and Utzig."

My eyes widened. "They're part of the Resistance?" She nodded. I scoffed. "Who knew..." I furrowed my brow. "How is that possible?"

She began walking us back towards Sink's office. "Utzig never wanted things to get this bad. He wanted to serve his country, but when things started heading towards genocide...that was when he began offering his services to the Resistance."

"And Fritz?" I asked.

"He's been a part of it since he spied you in Bastogne. It's why he was there with you at the aide station, why he's been helping you this whole time," she stated. "They're both here. They're in the group waiting for the official surrender of the German army."

I glanced up at her. "Does that mean...?"

She nodded. "This war is almost over."

We walked to the office together. I stopped and asked, "Do you know Anna Chiwy?"

She stopped and thought for a while. "The name does not sound familiar." My head fell. She asked, "Who is she?"

"A friend. One that I'm not sure if she escaped Bastogne or not," I admitted.

She nodded. "I'll look into it."

"Really?" I questioned, glancing up at her.

She smiled and nodded. "Consider it a small thank you for what you did for me." She stopped outside the building that housed Sink's office and turned to me. She hugged me. "Take care of yourself, Jane Finley."

She pulled away and I said, "You too, Faye."

I watched her head into the office. I watched as the door closed between us. I turned and started to head aimlessly away from the building, taking in the conversation with Faye. It all made sense now. Everything was coming together, piece by piece, and I was beginning to understand that my role in this war had actually been a bigger part that I had even anticipated.


	39. Secrets & Regrets

It took me asking around for a while to discover where the surrender was taking place. When I finally got the answer, I headed that way.

What do you think you're doing? They are playing you.

I tried to silence the voice again, focusing on my mission; reach the field for the surrender.

That girl was lying to you. Do you really think you're that important? You're worthless - a nobody! You admitted it the other day, don't you remember? You're dead!

My heart fell at the words, but I pushed forward, blinking the angry tears from my eyes. I didn't want to listen, but the voice was so loud in my head.

What do you think those soldiers will do when they see you? Don't expect hugs and kisses from them. They think you're dead, just like your parents!

I stopped walking, feeling a wave of defeat creeping up on me. I began to wonder if the voice was right. They'd have no way of knowing that I was still alive. Everyone else thought I was dead.

Don't bother wasting everyone's time. It's like salt in a wound. They've mourned you already, let them believe that you're dead and stay buried.

I closed my eyes. I felt the traitorous tear racing down my cheek. I felt the sobs building within me, but I was fighting the urge to give in.

You're weak. You've always been weak.

Another tear fell.

"Jane?" a voice spoke to me.

You'll never be anything more than the one they should have left to die.

I release a short cry, before inhaling deeply, trying to keep myself composed.

"Jane?" the voice spoke again, this time closer. When I felt a hand on my shoulder, I jumped, twirling around to defend myself. I saw the defensive stance of Winters standing behind me, worry written all over his face. "Jane? Are you okay?"

I sniffled, wiping the tears from my face. "Yeah...Yeah, I think so."

He asked, "What are you doing out this way?"

"I was trying to get to the surrender," I admitted. "I think there are some people there that I need to see."

Winters looked at me for a moment. He nodded and motioned for me to follow him. He pointed to the backseat of the Jeep. Nixon was in the front, smiling at me. Winters said, "Hop in. You can ride with us."

I smiled back. "Thank you." I climbed in and we rode towards the assembly area.

The ride to the assembly area was much shorter than it would have been on foot. When we arrived, I climbed out. "Thank you, Sir." Winters and Nixon smiled at me. I turned and started to make my way towards the mass group of men, awaiting for orders.

I spied a group of our soldiers standing by, watching the scene unfold. When the General of the German soldiers began his speech, one of ours began translating. I didn't bother to listen. I was too busy scanning the massive crowd in search of some familiar faces that I had been led to believe were here.

You're only kidding yourself. They aren't here. Even if they were, they don't want to see you.

I closed my eyes, praying and pleading with the voice to stop talking.

They don't want to see their failure standing before them, in front of all of their comrades. You'll make them a laughing stock - shame them.

I choked back tears again. I didn't want to have another meltdown here, especially here. I forced myself to open my eyes and focus on the faces in the crowd.

I spied young men, younger than me, in the crowd. I saw men who were older than my father. Each man had the same hope reflected on their face. It was apparent to me in this moment that not one man, from either side, wanted to be here. None of these men wanted to be fighting this war anymore. Everyone just wanted to go home.

When the speech was over, the men began to disperse. I felt my heart pounding within my chest. I approached one of the men. "Excuse me?"

He shook his head. I tried the next man, but he shook his head as well. I wondered if none of them spoke English. I kept trying.

Give it up already! None of these men want to talk to you! They want to go home!

I released a heavy sigh, feeling defeated. I glanced about the crowd again, hoping to see a familiar face. When my eyes landed on someone, I smiled and started into the crowd.

The man turned around and met my gaze as I approached. "Jane?"

"Hello again, Utzig," I said, smiling at him.

He looked at me, up and down, making sure that I was real. "How-"

"It's a long story," I admitted.

He hobbled over to me and embraced me. I could hear him crying into my shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Jane! I'm sorry!"

We stood there, crying into each other's arms. When I pulled away from him, I asked, "What happened to you?"

He looked down at his bandaged leg. "Wounded shortly after I was reassigned from Foy. I think Sauer had a hand in this."

"Are you okay? Do you need a doctor?" I asked.

He laughed. "I'll live." He started looking about the remaining men in the crowd. "There is someone else who'd want to see you." He whistled and another man turned in the crowd. It was Fritz.

When Fritz spied me standing next to Utzig, he came running over. He reached me and gathered me into his arms. "You're alive!" I laughed as he twirled me in the air, setting me on the ground. He gave me a tight hug. "I am so happy to see you!"

"I never thought I'd see you guys again!" I admitted.

Fritz pulled away from me. "Are you okay?"

I nodded. "What happened to you guys?"

The two exchanged glances. Utzig placed the crutch under his arm and started to walk. "We have a lot to tell you."

Fritz helped Utzig as they began to walk away from the assembly area. "I'm glad to see you found your stuff again," he said, motioning to my bag around my shoulders.

Images flashed before my eyes of Fritz taking my bag filled with film canisters with him before Sauer arrived.

I blinked back to the present, nodding. "I'm glad to have it back, but ... didn't you have it?"

He nodded. "I managed to find some of the American troops. I gave them the bag."

"I'm surprised they let you go," I stated.

He shook his head. "They didn't. Not right away, anyways. It took a lot of conversations with some of the officers to convince them that I was needed," he looked around before whispering, "for the Resistance."

"Did they believe you?" I asked.

"Not until they got the film developed," he explained. "Once they saw the pictures you took from that prison camp and I told them over and over again who I was, who to contact who could collaborate my story, then they let me go. Said it was for the bigger cause...told me not to get myself killed."

"I'm glad that you didn't get yourself killed," I stated.

He smiled. "Me too."

"Did you ever see your family?" I asked, recalling the talk we had in the frozen forest.

He shook his head. "They weren't there. I have no idea where they are."

"I'm sorry, Fritz..." I said. "Maybe they will come back once the war is over."

He didn't say anything more about his family. Utzig cleared his throat. He hobbled over to a bench and sat down. "I can't wait to get this leg taken care of."

"What happened?" I asked.

"Got caught in a trench full of barbed wire," he recalled. "It was wrapped around pretty tight. I barely managed to escape before the Allies moved in on our position."

"When was the last time you had someone take a look at it?" I asked.

He shrugged. "It's been a while. Our doctors had a short amount of time to take care of it," he motioned to the makeshift bandages that wrapped around the leg. "Hence the bad wrapping."

I thought for a moment before offering, "I know a guy who might be able to help you, if you want."

Utzig smiled. "I'd appreciate it, but if he doesn't want to help, I'll understand."

"Why wouldn't he help?" I asked.

He gave me a mournful look. "For what happened to you, for the war, the fact that we're enemies."

"Were enemies," I pointed out. "Besides, you're not my enemy. You're a friend."

He smiled. "Thank you, Jane. That means a lot to hear."

I sat down next to him on the bench. "So, what happened to you?"

He inhaled deeply, slowly letting it go. "I'm afraid it's a long story, but I'll try my best..." I could see him thinking about where to begin, but he continued, "When Sauer came, there was no indication that things were going to get worse for any of us when you went to bed that night. I was interrogated, threatened with treason for not torturing you earlier to get the required information."

"What 'required information'?" I asked. I wanted to see if what he told me was going to be the same as I had been told by Faye, Sink, and everyone else.

You're expecting an honest answer? Ha! the voice taunted.

"We weren't told much, but apparently there were a group of German POWs that had escaped captivity - possibly part of the Resistance. One of whom was a photographer, a woman photographer. We were given a description of what to look out for in regards to these people, and I had shared it with my men in hopes of finding them - finding her. I thought that if I could get her into Foy, I would be able to show them that we were on the same side."

Traitors, the lot of them.

I tried to focus on Utzig to drown out the voice in my head. He continued, "When Fritz was doing his patrol, he found you. He wasn't sure if you were who we were looking for when he came back to inform me of you. He said that you didn't look like a German POW escapee, nor did you sound or look like you were from these parts. I was the one who ordered that we bring you there."

"So...What happened to Fritz? I mean, he was injured when he came to Bastogne," I recalled.

Fritz nodded. "I had been injured and I had been captured by your men. I was supposed to be treated there and then escorted to a prison, but that didn't happen."

I thought about the bombing that took place in Bastogne. Memories of Renee and Anna flooded back to me. I remembered that Christmas Eve when I saw Renee die. I saw the images of us laughing and sharing stories before her death. I remembered how willing I was to step away from my happiness with Roe in order for them to live happily together if they so chose to. My heart ached as I relieved the moment of being told for certain that she was dead and that I'd never get the change to say good-bye. I'd never know about Anna, unless Faye found something on her. They were my friends, and I felt as though I had let them down somehow.

When I broke my flashback of them, I nodded at Fritz. "I remember."

He offered a kind smile, almost knowing what I had just remembered.

Utzig sighed. "Losing contact with Fritz made me nervous. I sent scouts out in search of him. When I learned that he was at your aide station in Bastogne, I knew when to come get you both. I had been informed of the barrage that would take place and timed it just so."

"What happened after Sauer came?" I asked.

"Well, after interrogating me, threatening me with treason, Sauer reassigned me to a unit who was on the line. I think he was hoping that the line would kill me. He played with the notion to kill Styne, but gave him the opportunity to die in battle instead, saying he deserved that much, so he was placed in another unit, far from me. My other soldiers who were always in my office, as you might remember," I nodded and he added, "Were executed in shallow graves outside Foy." I watched as Utzig held his head low. He stated, "I failed them. They were meant to live long lives after this war...and I got them killed."

"No," I stated. Utzig met my gaze. "You did what you had to in that situation. I'm sure that they would have offered to take your place had Sauer threatened to execute you instead."

He didn't seem comforted by my words, but let it go. I could see that it was a battle that he would forever deal with, that guilt that would eat away at him. I knew too well what that was like.

Utzig stated, "It was hard to continue our work within the Resistance, but I was able to send word to them, telling them of the situations that arose. While I was unable to do the tasks they had asked me to do, I was still making sure to do everything else that I could to make sure that they would succeed and the war end." He thought for a moment before adding, "I thought that you were killed. There were rumors that Sauer had disappeared after Foy was taken - leaving no trace as to where he disappeared to, but there were rumors that he had killed you before he left. I honestly felt like I had been defeated. Like there was no point in this war anymore, because I had failed you."

"If I remember correctly, you were ordered to bring in Sauer," I stated.

He shook his head. "I was pressured and if I didn't bring him in, I was afraid of being exposed...but I had no idea that this was what would happen when I did it. I never meant for you to go through any of that."

"A friend found your letters," I stated. "It helped him piece together a lot of what happened there, who to look for, and everything."

He smiled a small smile. "I'm glad that your friend found them and not Sauer. I was afraid that I hadn't hidden them well enough."  
I shrugged. "I can't answer that...I don't even really remember what was written on the letters."

Utzig waved it off. "It's not important now. I'm just glad that this is all over."

"So what happens to you both now?" I asked. "Do you go home?"

He nodded. "I get to go to a hospital first, I'm sure, but then home is the plan. For both of us."

Fritz nodded. "I just hope that I can find my family. I want to make sure that they're okay - let them know that I'm okay."

Utzig looked deep into my eyes and asked, "What happened to you, Jane? I'm almost afraid to ask."

Both of them were looking at me, waiting for my answer. I swallowed and said, "Let's just say that I'm still dealing with the torture."

Fritz's face fell. I could tell he knew exactly what I meant. Utzig seemed to think on my words before making the connection. He seemed overwhelmed by guilt.

I added, "I'm slowly remembering things from before, but it's still hard. I may never get that part of my mind back. I'll still have to fight these demons that I have now since Sauer and his wife came into the picture... I still hear him in my head, taunting me."

Both of them looked almost ashamed. Utzig stated, "I shouldn't have brought him in...I'm so sorry, Jane."

I shook my head. "You did what you had to do. Besides, maybe it was meant to happen."

"What do you mean?" he asked, seemingly confused.

I swallowed. "I was fighting this feeling of 'why me' but after speaking to someone," I thought of Faye and her strength. I added, "I think it was better for me to have gone through this rather than someone important. Maybe I saved lives by being captured..."

Tell yourself whatever makes you sleep at night. To me, you're always going to be useless and weak. I should have killed you when I had the chance.

I closed my eyes, feeling the sting of the words spoken within me. When I felt hands on my shoulder and knees, I opened my eyes to see worried faces looking back at me. I chuckled softly. "I'm okay, really."

They pulled away from me. Utzig asked, "Shall we head to your friend at the hospital?"

I nodded, standing up. Fritz helped Utzig to his feet and we began our long walk towards the hospital.

When we arrived outside the hospital, we were greeted by the familiar old face of Styne. He embraced all three of us with a happy smile. He saw Utzig's injury. They exchanged words in German.

I looked up at the hospital, knowing that I couldn't be inside for fear of having too many flashbacks. I was afraid. Fritz placed his hand on my shoulder. "Hey, you okay?"

I glanced at him. "I can't go in there..."

"I thought you said your friend-" I cut him off.

"It's not that...after everything in Foy, I was in a hospital that I escaped from...I have too many flashbacks in there. I can't go in there," I explained. Fritz nodded, reassuring me that it was okay, that I did enough and didn't need to go inside. I added, "Ask for Doc Roe. Tell them I sent you."

Fritz nodded. "Take care of yourself, Jane. I hope to see you again soon." He hugged me. "I mean that. Take care of yourself."

I smiled at him and watched as he and Styne helped Utzig into the hospital.

You'll never see them again. Just like those prisoners you gave so many empty promises to.

The voice hit me hard with that one. It pained me to this day that I had promised to make sure that those poor souls would be saved...I did fail them. This was true, and it sickened me to think that I said things that I shouldn't have. I wondered where their pictures were. I hoped that wherever those pictures were, they would do some kind of good in the world; allow them to never be forgotten - no matter how long time continued to flow. They deserved that much.

I sat down on the stairs in front of the hospital. I thought over all of the things that had happened, the people that I had met, the people that I didn't even give a second glance to, and began to wonder where they all were. How many of them were still alive? How many of them were completely changed over the course of the war? How many of them, much like me, would struggle with the effects of the war?

It was a common phrase that I had heard since being reunited with the men. War was hell. War changes you. Every single on of us had been changed. We were no longer the naive children that came over here to fight some battle that we didn't fully understand. We would end up going home grown up and battle worn and hardened. Too many of us had lost friends and that changed our outlook on life and relationships. I wondered how many men would live life alone, afraid of losing those closest to them. Everything would be different moving forward.

As I sat there, I thought over everything I had been told by Faye, by Utzig, by Styne and Fritz, and even my men. It seemed that they shared similar stories. No matter what that evil voice in the dark recesses of my mind seemed to say, the people around me were telling me something completely different. I started to wonder how long I would have to live with this voice in my head. I was terrified to think that I'd die still hearing the tormenting voice, spewing falsehoods. I didn't know how to silence this voice, and I wasn't sure if there would ever been a way to silence it.

Just like my memory, maybe this was something that was shaping me into the person I was meant to become. This was unfortunately a part that I hoped I wouldn't become. It would drive me crazy and I feared that it would wind up killing me in the end.

That night, I sat quietly waiting for Roe to return to his room.

He's not coming back. The voice was back.

Yes, he is, I thought.

No, he's not. Not after that conversation you two had...not to mention the fact that you sent him the three responsible for your torture right to his step.

They aren't responsible, I thought.

But they are...weren't you listening when they told you today? Oh, I know...you think that only I'm the bad guy because I did things to you. Am I right?

Shut up, I thought, closing my eyes.

I'm amazed that he hasn't just up and left a long time ago. If I were him, I would have left the moment I met Renee. The voice laughed.

I placed my hands on my ears, hoping to silence the voice, which was pointless as it was inside my head.

Face the facts, Jane. You'll never be rid of me. I'm the only one who knows you intimately. I can see your memories, hear your thoughts-

Shut up! I screamed internally. Just. Shut. Up!

There's nothing you can say or do to make me go away. I'll always be here.

I opened my eyes, praying that soon Eugene would walk through the door and I could focus my energy on him instead of fighting this voice within me.

I already told you, he's not coming back. You're damaged.

I was about to leave the room when the door opened. Roe's eyes met mine as he entered. I couldn't tell what he was thinking based on the look on his face. I waited for him to speak first.

He closed the door behind him and removed his bag from his shoulder, setting it down on the chair before padding across the room, and wrapping me in his arms. We stood there, embracing one another for a moment. He finally sighed. "I'm glad you're here."

"Really?" I asked.

I could feel him tighten his hold on me. He whispered, "Yes. I am happy to see you here. Feels like home."

I smiled. I didn't say anything but continued to breathe in the comforting smell of his musk. I closed my eyes and focused my mind on the sounds of his breathing and his heart beat.

He said, "I met your friends today. Said you sent them to me."

I pulled away. "How are they?"

He studied my face before saying, "He'll live. They did a terrible job at taking care of his leg though. He's going to be in the hospital for a while, but then he'll be allowed to go home."

I smiled. "That's good. Thank you for taking care of them."

He nodded, but didn't return the smile. He admitted, "I asked them how they knew you. They didn't hold back."

I felt slightly uneasy. I was beginning to feel the voice inside my head clawing it's way back to the front of my mind. I was fighting it off as best as I could. I didn't want to listen to it's lies.

Roe sat down on the bed. "It gives me a greater understanding as to what you went through; what you're still going through. They seemed to genuinely care for you, even though they are mostly to blame for everything that happened to you." I could hear the anger within his tone of voice. I was beginning to get worried. He looked up at me. "I know that they didn't mean to harm you, but I can't help but feel like those are lies."

"What do you mean?" I asked, sitting down next to him.

He turned to look at me. "If they didn't mean for you to be in harm's way, they should have just left you alone."

I nodded. I understood what he was saying, but it still didn't matter. I knew that there was nothing I could say in this moment that would help the situation. Roe needed to vent, he needed to speak his mind and his feelings. I couldn't keep making excuses.

He asked, "Are you okay?"

I nodded. "I'm okay. Really."

He studied me for a minute before standing up. "Have you decided what you want to do when you go home?"

I laughed. "What home?" He glanced over his shoulder at me. I explained, "From the letters that I got a while ago, I don't have a home to go back to, remember? I'm not even sure I want to go back."

"What? What do you mean? Like stay here?" he questioned.

I shrugged. "Maybe. When the war is over, I thought maybe I should just...start over...be in a place where no one knows who I am..." I looked up at him. "Be easier that way."

He stared at me for a moment. "You know, you could come to Louisiana with me." I watched him from my spot. He pointed out, "That would be a fresh start where no one knows who you are."

I smiled sadly at him. "Do you really want me to go home with you? I mean, I am damaged goods."

"What are you talking about, damaged goods? Who told you that?" he asked, almost offended.

I averted my gaze to my feet. "I keep hearing this voice in my head telling me things-"

He cut me off. "Don't listen to that voice. It doesn't know what the fuck it's saying." The profanity coming from his mouth caused me to jerk my head up. He approached me, kneeling before me, hands on my knees. He said, "That voice; don't listen to it. Don't give it the power or hold over you. You're everything but damaged to me. There is nothing that it can say that would make me not love you, make me not want you in my life. It. Does not. Have. Power. Over. You. Over us." I studied his dark eyes. He whispered, "Trust me, Jane. Believe in us. We can defeat that voice if you trust me."

I felt the tears forming behind my eyes. I didn't want to cry, but I could feel the tears betraying me. He reached up and touched my face with his calloused hand. I leaned into the warmth of his skin.

"Do you believe me?" he asked softly. I nodded, closing my eyes. He said, "Then say it."

I whispered, "I believe you. I trust you." I opened my eyes and stated, "I love you."

The next few days were spent keeping busy. With the surrender of the German forces, we had nothing more to do than just wait. We would wait for orders to go home, wait for everything to be official. Waiting, it turned out, was harder than it sounded. Everyone was just tired and ready to go home, back to normal life.

When word reached us that we would finally be allowed to go home - the official order saying that the war was over - everyone celebrated. It felt like a lifetime had passed before we were finally given those words we had desired to hear. Everyone had rushed off to gather their things and find out where they had to go to finally head home.

I wasn't in a rush as I gathered my things. I looked at the items that I had spread out on the bed. I didn't have much, but the items that I did have spoke volumes to me as to my story. I had my camera, which had been with me for the majority of my journey. I had film canisters, most of which had been used up already, but I had a few unused ones ready to go. I had my worn journal which spoke from two sides of me, one that I still struggled to remember and the other that I struggled to free. I still had the two jars of ointment that I had gotten from Raoul that fateful day when he helped me escape the hospital and rejoin my men. I had a small stack of letters from The Times and my family. There was even the picture of Roe that I had with me in my coat pocket during my capture; it was faded slightly and the edges were worn. I also had a small stack of notes that Roe left me each morning that I had kept, even though they all said roughly the same thing; "Went to work. Love you. See you soon.". Each item was just as much a part of me as my arm was. I was careful with each item as I placed them into my bag.

I glanced about the room, scanning for anything left over. Memories of the room spoke loudly to me as I glanced about the room. This room felt more like home to me than any other place. I was sad to leave it behind. I was almost afraid of what laid ahead.

I heard the door open behind me. I glanced over my shoulder to see Roe standing in the doorway, smiling at me. He asked, "Are you all set?"

I looked around the room once more. "Yeah...let's go." I turned and started to follow him out. I paused at the door and turned back, giving the room one last look. Goodbye room. I'll miss you.


	40. New Orleans

I stood on the green lawn that lay just outside a beautiful house with a wrap around porch. I couldn't budge from the spot I had cemented myself to.

From one prison to another, the voice taunted. I ignored the voice.

Eugene walked up to me and placed his hands on his hips, wide smile across his lips. "What do you think?"

"Well..." I started but faded away.

"I know that it needs a little work. Some paint here and there, maybe some plants and flowers around the front, and the steps need some work," he said. "But this place could really be great for us."  
The sad house reflected my mood. I forced a smile. "It's great."

His smiled widened. "I knew you'd love it. Wait till you see inside!" He started up the walkway towards the steps of the porch. He stopped and looked over his shoulder. "You coming?"

I felt the smile fading from my face as I forced myself to walk forward. I was trying to be grateful about this house, but I was struggling. It didn't feel like a home. Maybe that was because it needed so much work, but I also knew that I had to give it a chance. Eugene seemed proud of himself for being able to buy the house for a steal. He had promised to do most of the work himself, and the cost of materials would be cheap considering he was working for a construction company. I just felt like I was being dragged along for the ride.

You are along for the ride. He didn't ask you your opinion because you don't matter. He's just looking after you to make sure that you don't do something stupid.

I felt a pang in my chest by those words. I willed myself to stay strong. I tried to drown out the voice by singing a song in my head, but I couldn't remember the lyrics very well.

Eugene struggled to open the jammed door. Once it was open, he almost fell inside the house. I chuckled. He turned to look at me, smiling at the first sign of happiness from me in a while.

He stood up straight and motioned to the inside of the house. "Keep in mind that all of this will be cleaned up and redone."

I glanced about the house. To be fair to him, it had great bones. I could see what the house had to offer, and why he chose to buy it, but it still seemed like he was ripped off his hard earned money.

He pointed around the rooms. "We can pull all of this out, paint it or wallpaper it, depending on what materials are available to us. The floors are original and all it really needs is some polishing, then it will be as good as new."

He walked through the first floor of the rundown house, pointing out everything that would need some kind of work. When I tried to go upstairs, he stopped me. "It's not safe to use those stairs...I have to rebuild it from scratch."

My mouth fell open. "Oh..."

"What do you think?" he asked, clearly proud of himself.

It's a death trap.

For once, I agreed with the voice inside my head. Instead of saying it out loud, I stated, "I think it will be great once it's fixed."

He smiled again. "I'm glad to hear you say that. I was worried that you'd hate it." I forced a smile. He saw it and his face fell. "You do hate it, don't you?"

I shrugged. "In it's current stage, yes. I wanted to ask you what you were thinking...but I'm being honest with you in saying that once it's fixed up, I think it's going to be perfect."

He nodded. "There wasn't much that I could afford-"

"You don't need to explain it to me, Eugene. I understand," I said. "We will just have to get started on it sooner than later."

He wrapped his arms around me. "It's only temporary. I promise."

The next few days, any free time that Eugene and I had were spent rebuilding our new house. Eventually, with the help of some of his co-workers from the construction crew, we got the house put back into a livable state.

The day that it was completely finished - months later - and our few belongings were moved in, we threw a celebratory barbeque for the crew and their families. The men spent most of the time congratulating each other for a job well done, and those who served in the war, reminisced about their experiences. The women of the group huddled together to gossip about anyone and everyone in a stereotypical manner. I didn't relate to them, but was trying to make friends with them as they were friends of Eugene's.

One woman asked, "How long have you and Gene known each other?" She carried herself with such an elegance but she had the reputation of being arrogant, almost with a 'better-than-thou attitude. Everything about her bothered me, the way she had her blonde hair tied up neatly, her nails always clean and filed, her clothing neatly ironed.

I admitted, "Since the war. I met him in Georgia, during training."

"The war? My, I can't even imagine why they'd allow you to be there in the first place," the blonde woman said, glancing about her friends, who also forced laughs on cue.

"Well, I wasn't a soldier or anything..." I started.

Another woman who sat across from me asked, "Didn't you do something for the paper?" She seemed to be the nicest of the lot. She was a black woman with a cheery disposition. She reminded me a little bit of Anna. I liked her, but I was shy with her because she was always around the blonde woman that caused problems.

I swallowed, nodding. "I was a photographer for The Times."

"I knew I recognized your name!" the black woman stated. "You do good work!"

I smiled uncomfortably. I wasn't sure if she was being nice or sincere. She smiled warmly back at me, and I felt myself relaxing just a little.

"Photographer...and a woman at that," the blonde woman gasped. "Why didn't you do something important, like a nurse or work in the factories here?"

She sounds like your mother, the voice spat. Again, I couldn't help but agree with it. I was beginning to wonder what kind of person I was turning into if I was beginning to agree with the demon that spat lies out at me.

I replied, "Well, I thought it was important to show our country what war is really like...not what they show you in the movie reels."

"Are you still working for the newspaper?" a different woman asked.

I shook my head. "Not really... I sent my last film canisters to The Stars and Stripes newspaper for printing."

"What about The Times?" the same woman asked.

I shrugged. "Stars and Stripes paid more for them."

The women laughed. The arrogant woman joked, "Such a little business man you are!" I furrowed my brow at her. I couldn't help but feel like she was trying to humiliate me. The last time I felt that way, I was being tortured. She laughed again. "You look angry at the sentiment!"

I looked over at the kind woman who had asked me about my photography. She shook her head, almost willing me to stay quiet. I raised my eyebrow at her. She leaned forward and whispered, "She ain't worth it, darlin'."

"Betty, what are you two whispering about over there?" the blonde arrogant woman asked.

Betty turned her brown eyes over to the blonde. "Well Susan, I was just telling Jane here that I think it's great that she has ambitions."

I eyed the two of them. I knew that Betty was doing her best to protect me from the crudeness of Susan, but I felt every part of me wanting to rip Susan's neatly blonde hair out of her manicured head. The voice in my head was laughing at the imagery.

You should do it! Make those women tremble in fear...much like I did to you!

I closed my eyes, trying to remain in control. After a deep breath, I opened my eyes and met those familiar dark ones across the way. Eugene offered a reassuring smile to me. I smiled back.

Susan asked, "What are your plans now? I mean, now that you don't have a photography job." She turned to her friends, chuckling. "Are you and Gene going to try for a family?"

I pursed my lips. "Actually, I-"

"I mean no disrespect of course, but you're not getting any younger," Susan chortled.

Betty said, "There's no rush for a family. You have time. After all, you both just got back to the States not too long ago."

Susan sighed. "Betty, you know that the longer a woman waits, the less likely she'll be able to have children." She turned back to me. "Don't you want to continue his bloodline? Let him have an heir?"

I gritted my teeth, trying desperately to not lash out at her. I didn't want Eugene to lose friends because of me. Images flashed before my eyes of Sauer taunting me in person as he tortured me. I felt the palms of my hands getting sweaty as I tried to keep myself calm.

"Jane?" Susan asked, breaking me of my thoughts. When I looked up, all the women were looking at me, expecting an answer for my blanking out.

I stood up. "Sorry, I need to check something. Excuse me. I'll be back shortly."

As I started walking away, I could hear Susan making more snide remarks about me. I walked into the house, leaving the party behind me outside. I leaned against the kitchen sink, staring at the mess inside. I gripped the edge of the counters tight, blinking away tears.

I never thought that returning from the war would have me fighting to defend myself, trying to fit in with women who were feeling more superior than me. I had memories of Speirs talking to me in the small hut he was using. He told me that I didn't have to justify myself to anyone. Nixon had told me in a separate memory to 'fuck 'em all'. I was repeating their words in my head over and over again, while asking myself why it mattered to me that I fit in.

The voice in my head was laughing uncontrollably. You'll never fit in with them. You'll never be normal. They'll never understand you! You can't say anything to any of them either or Roe will lose friends. You can't do that to him...he'll leave you if you do that.

I closed my eyes, willing myself to stay strong. I tried to keep my breathing easy, tried to brush it all off, but I was struggling. I could still hear the maniacal laughing within my head.

I felt a hand softly touch my left shoulder. I grew rigid as I whirled around. Betty was standing behind me, withdrawing her hand defensively. She offered a kind smile. "How are you doing, darlin'?"

I sniffled back a cry. "I'm fine. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have run off like that."

"Don't apologize to me," she said. "Susan's... well... " she turned to make sure no one else was within earshot. She turned back to me and whispered, "Susan's a bitch."

I laughed a good laugh. I hadn't laughed like that in a long time, but the moment she said it, I kept laughing until tears ran down my face. I wiped the tears away and hugged her. "Thank you. I needed that."

She returned the hug and admitted, "She's always been like that. She was about as bad with me in the beginning."

"What did you do to make her stop?" I asked.

"You came along," she stated. When my face fell, she said, "She still treats me that way. It's just who she is."

I shook my head. "I just want to rip her hair out."

"Oh honey, me too," Betty laughed. "Don't let her win, though. Those other women are afraid of her."

"I'm not afraid of anything," I stated.

Except me! You're afraid of me! I could find you in an instant and you'll never know!

I grimaced at the voice's statement and Betty saw it.

"Are you okay?" she asked, clearly concerned.

I shook the voice from my head. "I'm working on it."

She offered a sympathetic smile. "You know, I know that look. I've seen men come home with that same struggle. They see such horrible things and they're never the same after that."

I listened to her words, and so badly wanted to tell her everything, but I was afraid of what would happen if I did that.

She stated, "I've seen your photos in The Times. I can only imagine what horrors you've seen." She patted my hand in hers and added, "You're a much braver person than I'd ever be. Same is true for any of those women out there." I smiled, withdrawing my hand from her hold. I felt uncomfortable but didn't say anything. She nodded in understanding. She stated, "One day, you'll be able to move on with your life. But for now, take all the time you need to deal with the battles waging on inside your soul." I gave her a half smile. She added, "I'll be here for you whenever you need. I like you, Jane. Don't ever hesitate to give me a call."

"Thank you," I replied with a smile. She smiled back and for the first time since moving to Louisiana, I felt like I had a friend.

"Shall we head back out to the Queen of Louisiana?" Betty asked dramatically. I laughed again and followed her back outside.

As I walked passed the men, I felt their eyes on me. I wondered what Eugene was telling them. I peeked a glance over my shoulder at them and Eugene smiled at me. I smiled back and turned to focus my half attentions back to the women as they finally changed topics off of me and onto other issues like shopping.

By the end of the party, everyone had left for the evening. Eugene and I cleaned up from the event and I stood in front of the sink, staring at the mess that was left behind. It was going to take me forever to clean it up.

Eugene came inside with the last of the empty bottles of beer. He threw them into the bin and closed the door, locking it behind him. He turned to me. "Well...that was fun." I could sense a hint of sarcasm in his voice. He walked over to me and wrapped his arms around my waist, resting his chin on my shoulder. He whispered into my ear, "How'd you manage today?"

I whispered back, "I like Betty."

He laughed. "I like Betty too. She's a good lady."

I turned to face him. "I hate Susan, though." I saw his face freeze and I asked, "Is that bad of me?"

He shook his head. "No. No one likes Susan."

"Her husband must," I pointed out. "They're still married."

Eugene replied, "It's for money purposes. She's got the money, and he's from a poor background. If he leaves her, then he's got to pay her back. He can't afford to do that."

I pretended to understand what that meant. In reality, I had no clue what it meant. I admitted, "I'm so afraid that your friends will hate me and you'll lose them-"

He cut me off. "If I lose friends because they can't open their minds to what you've been through, who you are as a person, or even see why I love you, then I don't need to be friends with them." I looked away from him, but he grabbed my face, gently lifting my face to meet his eyes. "You're more important to me than people who weren't there next to me in the foxholes. They aren't as important to me than you. No one will ever be as important to me than you. I want you to know that. I love you, Jane. I always have - since the first day that I met you and was ordered to give you an eye exam!" We both laughed at the memory. He continued, "I loved who you were then, but I'm more in love with who you are now. If you remember who you were then, I'll never stop loving you."

I felt tears rolling down my cheeks, and his thumbs brushing them away. "I love you too."

He pulled me into a long, deep and passionate kiss. It was a feeling that I hadn't felt from him in a long time. For the first time since being back in the States, I felt like I was finally home. It was at this moment that I realized that no matter where I was in life, where I was in the world, as long as I was with Eugene, I would be home. Home was no longer a place for me, but a person. He was my person, and I was his. Nothing would change that.


	41. Dare You To Move

The next morning, I waved to Eugene as he headed to work. I tried to keep myself busy, but I was failing miserably. I sat down on the couch, trying to think about what to do with my time alone. I hated being alone because that was when the voice in my head took over.

I heard a series of loud bangs from outside. I fell to the floor, cradling my head. I was waiting for the bullets to come crashing through the house. When nothing happened, I realized that it was a car backfiring. I stayed on the floor of the house, in the fetal position, crying.

Memories of being inside the shed with Marta came rushing inside my head. The bullets that were fired inside that barely missed us because she was trying to escape...but that was all an act. A facade for my benefit. I was struggling to deal with the aftermath of the events in Foy.

I heard a knock on the front door. I didn't move.

If you answer that, and it's me, what are you going to do? Cry? Run? No one is here to rescue you from me.

I clutched my head with my hands.

If I am on the other side of the door, I can promise you that I'm here to finish what I started.

"Shut up," I muttered under my breath as I began to cry.

The knock landed on the front door again.

Are you going to get that? Should you leave me out there all alone like you are here? It's rude, Jane.

The knock happened again. "Jane?" a voice spoke on the other side of the wooden door. "Are you home?"

I didn't reply.

"Jane?" the voice spoke again.

I could hear the door knob rattle.

I'm coming for you... the voice taunted and laughed.

I crawled into the corner of the room, bracing myself for what was going to come after me When the door opened, I heard a voice speak again. "Jane? Are you home? Your door was open..."

I glanced up from my corner of the room to see a very concerned Betty looking down at me. She closed the door behind her and padded across the room towards me. "Oh, honey..." I broke down into a fit of sobs. I couldn't control it. I was shaking with fear and she knelt down before me, gathering me in her arms. She stroked my hair, soothed me, shushed me, and comforted me. "It's okay, darlin'. I'm here. Let it out."

I felt ashamed. I felt silly and stupid. I felt broken. I was beginning to realize that I wouldn't be able to live my life in a normal way like I thought I'd be able to. I was embarrassed that Betty was here to see my moment of weakness.

At least it wasn't Roe, the voice pointed out. If you had done this when he was home, he would have left you...kicked you to the curb. You know that he deserves better than you.

I could feel the words searing my brain. I cried. I couldn't shake those words. Betty stayed with me, comforting me as best as she could without prying.

When I was finally able to regain composure, Betty helped me off the floor and into the kitchen where she busied herself with filling some glasses with water. She placed a full glass in front of where I was sitting. "Drink up, honey. It will help calm your nerves."

I reached forward for the glass. Once it was in my hand, I couldn't stop shaking and dropped the glass. The water rushed over the surface of the tabletop. I cried into my hands as Betty rushed to sop it up with a dishrag.

"I'm sorry," I cried. "I'm so sorry!"

She was at the sink ringing out the rag when she turned back to me. "Don't apologize...you ain't got nothing to be sorry for." She came back to the table and sat down next to me, rubbing my back.

I sniffled, brushing the tears from my face. I reached for the glass which had barely two gulps of water in the bottom. I used both hands this time to avoid another wet disaster.

Betty asked, "Do you want to talk about it?"

I gulped all the water. I put the glass down and held onto it, almost like a life preserver.

If you tell her anything, she'll leave you...she might be a sweet person, but not sweet enough to stick around you... do you really want to burden her with your issues? the voice cackled.

I closed my eyes, trying hard to ignore it.

Betty replied, "It's okay. You don't have to speak. Take your time. When you're ready, I'll be here."

I shook my head. "I don't know if I'll ever be able to talk about it."

She nodded. "And that's okay too, honey."

I looked over at her and she smiled warmly at me. I finally asked, "What brings you over here anyways?"

Betty's eyes darted away from me for a split second before she admitted, "Gene asked me to check up on you. Make sure you're okay."

I felt my face flush with embarrassment. I felt like a child and it made me question where Eugene and I stood. I thought we were passed this. To be fair to him, I did have an episode this afternoon. I was suddenly torn between feeling like a child and grateful that he had the sense to send someone over to check on me.

Betty instructed me to rest in bed while she took care of the house for me. As I was ordered up to my bed, I spied her beginning to make tea. I slowly climbed the stairs up to my bedroom. When I arrived to the bed, I climbed in. It wasn't long after that I had passed out.

I woke up from my nap and sat up in bed. It was still light out and I wondered if Betty was still around. I could smell the wonderful aromas of food wafting upstairs from the kitchen. I climbed out of bed and headed towards the door.

Once the door was open, I was standing at the top landing of the stairs of the house in Foy, staring down them where I spied my father waiting for me. I glanced back into my room and saw that it was no longer my bedroom that I shared with Eugene, but the room I used to have in that house in Foy.

My father stood at the bottom of the stairs, saying something, but there was no sound coming from him. He kept trying to tell me something, but all I heard was silence. I started down the stairs, trying to see if I could understand what he was saying. As I neared him, he turned and headed into the other room.

When I reached the bottom of the stairs, I quickly followed after him. I entered the office where Utzig and later, Sauer, would occupy. The fire was roaring, but there was no sound - no hissing or popping of the wood, no crackling of the fire - just silence. I turned in the empty office towards the entrance to it and there again, stood my father, mouthing words at me.

I followed him again, but lost him in the dining room. I stared at the harvest table, my side feeling the sensations of the torture. I felt this sudden urge to bolt. When I turned my head, I saw my father screaming in my ear, trying desperately to get my attention.

I woke with a jolt. I could feel the cold sweat dripping down my face and back. The doorknob to my room began to turn. Once the door slowly opened and Betty was standing there, arm filled with a serving tray, she saw my face and she offered a sympathetic glance.

She padded across the room, placing the tray at my bedside table before she sat down next to me. Using the kitchen rag, she dabbed away the sweat. "Nightmares?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. I've never had one like this before."

"Like what?" she asked, still trying to clean me up.

I shook my head. "I don't know...I'm so confused..."

She nodded and said, "Well, why don't you eat a little something. It might make you feel better." She stood up, picking up the tray from my table and placing it in my lap in bed.

I looked down at the tray. There was a cup of tea with lemon, a small sandwich, and a berry medley. I offered a small smile. "Thank you."

She returned the smile and started out of the room. "I'll be back. You keep resting." She closed the door behind her.

I tried to eat the food, but I couldn't break my thoughts from that dream. I kept trying to remember what my father was trying to say to me in the dream. It felt important to me. I was starting to get a headache trying to remember his words.

That evening, Eugene finally arrived home from work. I quietly opened the door to our room and sat at the top of the stairs. I could faintly hear the conversation he was having with Betty.

"How is she?" he asked.

"She was huddled in the corner over there," Betty stated. "Poor thing was shaking so badly, you thought she was havin' a seizure."

Eugene asked, "What happened? Did she say?"

"No," Betty stated. "She's not been able to talk about it, but poor girl was pretty shook up over it. I put her to bed and she's been there all day."

It sounded like Eugene was about to head towards the stairs when I heard Betty stop him. "She had a nightmare, too."

I heard a heavy sigh, not because of frustration but out of sadness, come from Eugene. "Thanks Betty. I appreciate you coming here today."

"Any time," she said. "I'll come by tomorrow, too. I think she'd appreciate the distraction."

"Have a good night, Betty," Eugene said. I heard the door close and I quickly padded back into the bedroom.

It wasn't long after I sat down on the bed that the door opened and Eugene walked in. He offered me a kind smile, but I knew he was worried.

He sat down next to me, kissing me softly on the forehead. "How are you?"

I nodded. "I'm okay."

"Are you sure?" he asked. "Betty's been here all day-"

"I know, I'm sorry. I didn't intend for her to stay," I stated. "I think she wanted to wait until you got home."

"What happened?" he asked.

I sighed heavily. "I thought someone was shooting at the house." When he furrowed his brow at my comment, I explained, "Turns out it was a truck backfiring."

"Oh..." he muttered, piecing together what might have taken place earlier today.

I admitted, "I panicked. I had flashbacks..."

"Of Foy?" he asked. I nodded. His face fell.

"I'm sorry. I know it was so long ago and I should be over it-"

He cut me off. "I'm not asking you to be 'over it'. That's not how that works." He grabbed my hands and rubbed the tops of mine with his thumbs. "I just wish I knew what to do to help you. I hate seeing you suffer."

I nodded softly at him. "I know...I'm sorry."

"Betty mentioned a nightmare?" he asked.

I sighed. "I wouldn't say it was a nightmare per se."

"What happened?" he pressed.

I inhaled deeply before telling him what I could remember of my dream. He nodded as he listened, taking in every word. When I was finished explaining it to him, he sat there, clearly thinking.

He finally spoke, "I think we should think about bed."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "That's it?"

He stood up. "I'm still thinking on how to best help you, Jane. "

I watched as he walked around the bed to his side and began emptying his pockets onto his table. I wanted to ask him if he was regretting keeping me in his life, much like the voice in my head reminded me all the time, but I kept quiet. His body language told me that tonight wasn't the time to have this discussion.

He climbed into bed and said, "Betty mentioned that she'd stop by again tomorrow. Just thought you'd like to know."

I watched him roll over and turn his light out. I suddenly felt that familiar feeling of being alone...and I hated it.


	42. Imperfection

The next morning, I waved to Eugene as he drove away from the house on his way to work, as I did every morning. Just as he left, I watched Betty pull up. She waved to me as she parked her car and climbed out. I returned the wave.

She neared me, asking, "How are you doing?"

I smiled at her. "Fine, that's for asking. What are you doing here?" She sighed, showing that she had a secret. Suddenly, her gaze turned into an apologetic one. I asked cautiously, "What?"

She replied, "I sort of...told Susan that we'd join her for her day out on the town."

I groaned inwardly. "You what?"

She nodded sheepishly. "I'm sorry, but I couldn't get out of it and thought you'd like the distraction."

I sighed. "What does this entail exactly?"

"You know Susan. Shopping, lunch, cocktails," Betty stated. "All the girls are going."

"From one prison to another," I muttered under my breath. Betty must have heard me because I saw her dark eyes widen. I forced a smile. "I guess I'll lock up. Give me a moment."  
I didn't want to go, but how could I say no to Betty, especially after all that she had done for me? She knew that I hated Susan. She knew that I didn't like how that woman treated me or others for that matter, but I thought that maybe with Betty being next to me, I would be able to endure the torture that was coming.

The thought of the word 'torture' and Susan made me chuckle as I grabbed my keys and purse. I scribbled a note and left it on the counter, just in case Eugene came home before me. I didn't want him to worry, let alone be mad at me for not taking the time to let him know where I was.

Taking a deep breath, I stepped outside, closing the locked door behind me. I walked next to Betty as we headed towards her car. She smiled as she wrapped her arm around my waist. "It's going to be fine, darlin'. I promise."

We arrived to the boutique that Susan had chosen for her first endeavor. We climbed out of the car and I stopped to look at the store. I suddenly felt more out of place and I hadn't even set foot inside. Betty offered a reassuring smile as she motioned for me to follow her inside. Reluctantly, I followed her in.

Sitting on a large puffed sofa was Susan and her posse. Susan's blue eyes widened at the sight of me, but quickly regained her composure, throwing on the fake smile. She stood up, arms outstretched as wide as she could muster. "Betty! Jane! I'm so thrilled you could make it!" I could hear the thick sarcasm lacing her words.

I watched as Susan embraced Betty, muttering something in her ear. She then turned to me, embracing me, but saying nothing. She offered a place for us to sit.

Susan looked over at me. "I wasn't expecting you today."

I did a quick glance at Betty, remembering that she had said that she told Susan that we both were coming. I didn't want to rat Betty out, so I just played along, even though I was feeling like I did with Marta. I didn't trust Susan and I worried it was going to show on my face. Instead, I smiled. "I thought I'd come along. Hope that's okay?"

Susan blinked at me. "Of course, dear." She quickly adverted her gaze to something else. I caught Betty's eye and she smiled at me. I shook my head.

I watched as Susan asked the sales girl to grab a variety of items for our room. The poor sales girl quickly trotted off to gather a large variety of clothing options for Susan. I realized based on how quickly she moved and how much she gathered that she was familiar with Susan and her crazy antics. I felt for her.

When the girl returned, she was escorted by another sales woman, carrying a tray of delicacies and champagne. Susan acted surprised and delighted that they thought of our group so highly as to bring out the 'good stuff'.

Betty giggled as I gave her another disbelieving glance. I felt my fingernails digging into the palms of my hands as I tried so hard not to make a scene over something so trivial, however, I was starting to have flashbacks of the prisoners in the camp I was sent to photograph. It sickened me to think that those people were starved, and she's enjoying the 'finer things' in life.

I knew she wouldn't understand even if I were to explain it in such a way a child could comprehend. I doubted anyone in this circle, except maybe Betty, would be able to understand or be willing to understand.

They don't want to understand, the voice stated, almost annoyed. You think that they care what happened to the poor defenseless people over in a country they can't pronounce? You're not that stupid or naive, Jane...or are you? I mean- I know you're stupid...

I shook the voice from my head. I didn't need the commentary today, especially since I was having my own war with Susan.

Susan stood up, still carrying her champagne daintily in her left hand. She turned to address all of us. "I think I'll start this off. I'll be back!" She turned to head into the dressing room. She called out to us as she walked away, "And I want honest opinions, ladies!"

I muttered to Betty, "I highly doubt that." Betty laughed as she sipped her champagne. I whispered, "How long does this usually take?"

Betty shrugged. "Sometimes it takes all day. It really depends on how she's feeling."

I groaned, pinching the bridge of my nose. I was beginning to regret agreeing to coming.

Which torture do you prefer, Jane? This or me? Because if you choose me, I'm on my way.

I exhaled deeply, lowering my hand from my face, just in time to see Susan re-emerge from the dressing room, giving everyone a full turn. The other women gave their expected 'oohs' and 'aahs'. When she turned to me and Betty, we just smiled.

Susan would continue to try on different blouses, skirts, and dresses for the next hour. When she emerged again, she could plainly see how miserable I was becoming, even though I was faking smiles when she arrived to us.

"Jane, why don't you try something on?" Susan offered.

I shook my head. "No, that's okay."

"No, please. I insist. You look bored," Susan spat. "Please, I think this," she grabbed a blouse from the rack. "This would look lovely on you. In fact, I think that Gene would love you in this."

She held out a muted pink blouse with pearl buttons down the length of it. She shook the blouse in my direction.

Betty muttered as she brought the glass to her lips, "You better go before she loses her patience."

I sighed, standing up from my seat and took the blouse from Susan. I was about to head into the closed off changing room when she stopped me. "Where are you going?"

"To change," I pointed out.

"Why? It's just a shirt," she stated. "Just try it on here. That way we can all see how lovely it looks on you."

"I'd rather change in the other room," I replied.

"Please, modesty isn't becoming on you," she said. She started to pull at my buttons for my shirt. I tried to stop her but she smacked my hands away. "It's not like we haven't seen any of this before, Jane."

I tried to stop her again, but this time, out of frustration of my fighting her, she ripped my shirt, popping the remaining buttons off. My blouse fell to the sides, exposing my front to the girls.

I heard scattered gasps in the suddenly quiet room. I scanned each one of their faces. They were shocked, horrified even, at the sight of my marred flesh. I didn't have to look at the scars to know how bad they were. I lived it. I memorized each scar, the thickness, the length, the redness. I knew just how many scars there were on each side and what had caused them.

Seeing their reactions made me feel empowered for a second before I felt uncomfortable, scared, and in need of running away and hiding.

Susan pulled away from me. "Now...that...I haven't seen before." She turned to the women and saw that they were still staring at me. She asked, "What on earth would possess you to do that to yourself? Does Gene know? What would he say if he saw that?"

I gritted my teeth as I listened to her asking her questions. When she was finally done, I felt my fist around the blouse that was in my hand. I stated, "First of all, this is the result of war."

"You didn't fight in the war," Susan pointed out.

I jutted my jaw out as I tried desperately not to lash out at her. "You're right. I didn't fight, but that didn't stop the Germans from capturing me and torturing me for months on end." I watched her face freeze at my words. I continued, "Of course Eugene knows about this. He saw it first hand when he and the rest of our company rescued me. I'd like to think that if he had any shadow of a doubt that he loved me, he would have walked away back there instead of waiting for us to come home and get married." I eyed the women. "Sometimes I can't help but wonder if the torture that I went through to get all of these," I motioned to the scars. "Was easier than being friendly with any of you." I tossed the pink blouse onto the sofa next to Susan. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go home and tend to the only casualty of this get together." I buttoned my blouse with the remaining buttons and walked out of the boutique.

Now you've done it. You've just ruined things for Roe. Are you proud of yourself?

I started walking towards my house when I heard a car pulling up beside me on the street. "Hey!"

I turned to see who was calling out to me. When my eyes landed on Betty, she stopped the car. I sighed. "I'm sorry for walking out the way that I did."

She waved it off, laughing. "I thought that was the best thing I had seen in quite some time! Just seeing Susan's face, my! I thought she'd throw up her champagne!"

I laughed. "You're not mad at me?"

Are you expecting an honest answer? Of course she is! You're broken and damaged. No one wants that in their life!

She shook her head. "Of course not. You've done nothing wrong, except listen to me about today." I swallowed as I listened to her. "Forgive me?"

I nodded. "Of course."

She waved me over. "Come on. I'll take you home." I walked around the car and opened the door. Once I was inside, she held out her hand to me. I saw my buttons in the palm of her hand. "I rescued your buttons."

I burst out laughing as I took them from her. "Thanks. I appreciate that."

"I had to...that blouse that Susan wanted you to try one was dreadful!" Betty laughed as she pulled away from the curb, heading to my house.

When we arrived, Eugene still wasn't home from work yet. I invited Betty inside and made some coffee after changing shirts.

She sat down and began to fix my blouse for me. I pointed out, "You don't have to do that."

"I feel obligated," she said. "I'm the one who invited you. I just didn't expect it to go quite in that way."

I sipped the hot black coffee from my green mug. It warmed every part of me as I felt it move throughout my body. I smiled. "I actually had a little bit of fun today."

Betty asked, "Because you thoroughly embarrassed Susan?"

I snorted in my coffee. "Yes. That's exactly it." We laughed at the sarcasm. "I think I enjoy your company. Outside the men in my company, you're the first person that I consider a true friend."

She smiled warmly at me. "I'm honored." After a moment of silence, she lowered the blouse and needle to her lap. "I know I said that you didn't have to talk about it, but...I feel like I owe you an apology."

"What for?" I asked, sipping on my coffee.

"I had no idea what you had been through," she stated. "I mean, I knew you had seen some horrible things - anyone who's been to war will be able to say that - but...seeing your scars..." I waited for her to gather her thoughts before saying anything. She continued, "I just wish that I had connected the dots earlier, that's all."

"It's okay," I said. "It's not like I talk about it to everyone or advertise it."

She nodded. "I know, but still. I could have handled it more delicately." I could tell that she wanted to say something more. When she finally mustered the courage, she asked, "What happened to you?" I saw her cringe at the sound of her question. "I'm sorry...I don't mean to word it like that-"

I waved it off. "Its okay. Really." I watched her continue her work on my shirt. I sighed, setting my mug onto the table. "It's hard to talk about, so you'll have to bear with me."

She quickly interjected, "You don't have to share, Jane. I'm being nosy."

I shook my head. "It's really okay, Betty. I think it might do me some good."

I asked her how much she wanted to know, how much detail she wanted. When she told me that she wanted to hear it all, or however much I was comfortable sharing, I told her everything I could remember. It took me everything I had to not listen to the voice inside my head telling me that this was a mistake, that it would destroy our relationship, but I knew that she hadn't run away from me when she saw my breakdown. She didn't run away when she saw me after a nightmare. She stayed even after seeing my scars. This was a person that I felt that I could trust. Every fiber of my being was telling me to let her in. So I did.

With every sordid detail of my capture, my torture, and my escape from the hospital, Betty listened intently. I told her about Raoul, Anna, Renee, Utzig, Styne, and Fritz. I told her about Marta and her betrayal to me. I told her all about Sauer and Lange and how I feared they were still looking for me. I told her about the nightmares, when they started, and the voice inside my head. I even told her about my parents and what happened between us. I laid it all out there for her.

To her credit, she listened throughout the whole story, not once interrupting. She didn't run away, she didn't tell me that I was exaggerating, or tell me that it wasn't that bad. She waited until I was finished with my story before saying anything. When she did speak, she just apologized to me. She apologized for the fact that I had to go through all of that, that I was still going through it, and asked me how she could help me. She didn't tell me what I should do or what she thought I should do to better myself, but asked me what she could do for me. When I explained that there wasn't anything she could do really, she countered with 'there is one thing I can do for you, and that is to always be your friend'. It was a simple gesture, but it meant the world to me.

She asked, "Did you ever hear back from Faye?"

I shook my head. "I'm sure she's forgotten all about me since the war. I may never know what happened to her or Anna for that matter."

Betty looked at the clock on the wall. "I should probably get going. I'm sure the husband is looking for dinner - don't want him setting the house ablaze!"

We shared a laugh as we stood up from the table. She wrapped me tight in her embrace, squeezing all the air from my lungs. "I'm so happy to have met you, Jane. I'll see you later." She released her hold of me, allowing my body to finally breathe again. I nodded and escorted her to the front door. I was about to open it when the door swung open and Eugene stood in the doorway.

He glanced between the two of us, almost concerned to see Betty. She smiled at him. "Hello Gene," she said. "You've got yourself an incredible woman."

He looked over at me. "Uh...yeah. I know." I could see the confusion written clear as day on his face. He stepped aside to allow Betty to leave. "Take care Betty."

"Bye-bye!" she said, waving.

Eugene closed the door and turned to me. "Are you okay?"

I laughed. "Yes. I'm okay, thanks for asking."

"Why was Betty here?" he asked.

"We spent the day together...well, part of it was with Susan and her crew," I mentioned. When Eugene was about to ask something, I added, "Let's just say that I don't think that Susan's going to be inviting me anywhere any time soon."

"Why? What happened?" he asked, clearly on edge of what might have happened.

I told him about how Susan tried to humiliate me in the boutique, but instead of me having a breakdown, I put her in her place. I explained that I wanted to run and hide my scars, but instead I showcased them because Susan set the stage. I needed to stop running away from my demons and face them head on, which I did just that.

I also told him about how I told Betty everything. I explained that I felt that it was important to let someone else, someone who wasn't there, know what had happened in hopes that things would start to normalize for me. He had agreed with me and commended me on my strength and courage that I had to do something like that.

I asked, "Do you think that she's going to think of me differently?"

"Differently, how?" he asked.

I shrugged. "I'm always afraid to let anyone know what happened for fear of losing them."

He pulled me into the safety of his arms. "I knew and saw it when it was bad...I'm still here, aren't I?" I nodded against his chest. He added, "I think that if Betty is as kind hearted as she appears, she'll stick around. If she's not as she seems, then she doesn't deserve to be in your life." He kissed my temple and whispered, "Don't believe the lies that voice tells you. That voice doesn't know a thing about you."

I closed my eyes, feeling calm and loved within his hold.

I stood in Utzig's old office. Once again, the fire was ablaze, but there was no sound. My eyes darted all around the room, searching for a reason as to why I was here. When I turned around, I spied my father standing in the hallway between the office and the dining room. I saw him mouthing words to me. I concentrated on what he was trying to say.

"...Save...you..."

Save me from what? I wondered. I tried over and over again to try and figure out what he was saying before he turned and started to walk away.

I followed him. He entered the dining room, where he was standing there with one of the nasty looking knives that Sauer had used against me. He mouthed more words, too quickly for me to understand. I was taken back when he threw the knife at me. I felt it hit me, but there was no pain after the initial prick. I looked down at myself and didn't see the blade, blood, or any evidence that he had thrown a blade at me.

I looked up and was suddenly standing outside in the frozen forest of Bastogne. I didn't feel cold like I should have. I watched as the snow fell gracefully to the white earth. I turned in a circle, trying to figure out where I was. I saw my father standing in the distant woods, motioning to me to follow him, still mouthing something to me.

I ran to catch up to him. With every step I took as I ran towards him, there were mortar blasts landing on either side of me. I couldn't hear the blasts, but I felt the ground hitting me in the face. The faster I ran, the faster the explosions landed all around me. I stopped for a moment to try and see through the smoke, trying to locate which direction my father had gone. The moment I stopped, I was engulfed in a bright light, filled with fire and sparks. It knocked me off my feet.

I felt like I was flying in the air. There was no pain, no fear, no cold. I closed my eyes, wondering if this was the feeling of dying. There was no real bright light at the end of the tunnel, no one coming to take me to the pearly gates...there was nothing.

When I opened my eyes, I was staring up at the familiar blackened sky during the barrage on the aide station in Bastogne. I bolted upright, scanning my surroundings. There was no one here. I was alone.

I stood up, watching the barrage take place on the town, but there was still nothing but silence. I spied a lone figure in the darkness. I started to approach it, but was stopped by a firm grasp on my shoulder. I glanced over my shoulder to see my father, wide eyed, shouting at me. I furrowed my brow, trying hard to understand what he wanted me to know.

The only words that I continued to make out were "save" and "you".

I felt hands shaking me awake. "Jane?" I bolted upright, gasping for air. Eugene sat up in bed, rubbing my back. "Hey...are you okay? What happened?"

I blinked away the images in my head. "Nothing. Just a dream."

"Just a dream?" he asked.

I turned to look at him. "I wasn't screaming, was I?" I was always afraid to sleep in fear that my nightmares would wake him up. It was why we were in a hurry to find a house. I used to wake the neighbors in our small apartment. People thought Eugene was killing me. It was at that moment that he had no choice but to apologize and explain the situation to them. That's when we moved.

"No," he said, shaking his head. "You weren't screaming."

"What was I doing?" I questioned.

He scratched the back of his head, releasing a sigh. "You were twitching...fighting in your sleep."

I ran my hands down my face. "I'm sorry if I woke you."

He stated, "I was already awake." I knew he was just being gracious on my account. I could see how exhausted he was.

"I can sleep in the other room so you can rest," I offered.

He yawned, pulling me into his arms. "I don't want you anywhere but here." We laid back down in bed. It wasn't long before I could hear him sleeping next to me.

I couldn't sleep after that. Instead, my mind raced with thoughts of my father, my mother, the war, and eventually, it raced with memories of the torture. I kept trying to focus my breathing and thoughts on sleep. I tried counting to bore my mind and have it wear itself out, but that proved difficult.

Eventually, I got tired of laying in bed, so I quietly got out and padded downstairs. I sat at the kitchen table with a glass of water. I wondered about my parents. I wondered about the dream. Maybe the two were related. Maybe I was meant to contact them again. I wasn't sure if they would be welcoming to my contacting them, but something was nagging me in the back of my mind to try. Worse case would be that they meant their words that they wrote to me - 'we don't have a daughter' - and if that was the case, then I'd have nothing to lose. If they didn't mean it, maybe I could get some answers finally.

Acting on impulse, I wrote Eugene a note, explaining what I was about to do. I placed it on the table, secured underneath his mug that he used every morning for coffee. I knew he'd find it there.

Immediately after, I started to go through the clean, folded clothes in the laundry basket that I had forgotten to take to our room. I pulled out a few sets of clothes and carried them into the kitchen, placing them on the table. I headed to the closet and grabbed my old bag off the peg inside and brought it over. I shoved the clean clothes, except for what I was planning on wearing, into the bag. Once my bag was packed, I changed clothes and grabbed my boots from the mudroom, securing them to my feet. I reached for my jacket off the back of the kitchen chair and put it on. I glanced about the house from my spot, trying to think if there was anything else that I would need, but everything I thought I needed was in the bag that I reached for. I turned and headed out of the house, locking the door as I closed it behind me.


	43. The Memory Will Never Die

A couple of days later, I arrived in New York. It looked about the same as when I left it all those years ago. I recognized the streets, the sounds, the smells. I could feel my mind was on the edge of being able to remember everything about this place that I had forgotten, it felt like trying to say something that was on the tip of your tongue, but failing to think up the word.

I walked down the familiar crowded streets towards my old neighborhood. I noticed that while some things had changed, not much had. It reminded me of an old saying, The more things change, the more they stay the same, I guess it was true. I rounded the corner and headed down my old lane.

When I passed each house, I wondered if the people I knew living there were still there. I doubted they would remember me, so much had changed. I had changed.

I stopped in front a familiar old fence and stared at the house. I felt tears forming in my eyes as I stood there taking in the house. It was the same as I had left it, with minor improvements. There was a new roof, new paint, but the flowers were the same, even the swing on the porch was the same.

I opened the gate and stepped into the yard, closing it behind me. I turned, taking in a deep breath as I willed myself forward. I stopped in front of the door and raised my fist to knock, but hesitated. Fear and worry washed over me like a wave. I had never felt more nervous and scared than I did in this moment.

Finally, I mustered the courage to face my parents. I knocked on the door three times. I released a heavy sigh, as I shifted uncomfortably in my spot. It wasn't long before someone answered the door.

I stared at the man standing before me. I blinked in confusion at him.

He looked me over and asked, "Can I help you?"

"Uh..." I started. "Sorry, I must have the wrong house..."

He furrowed his brow, tilting his head to the side as he looked at me. "Who are you looking for?"

I grabbed the shoulder strap to my bag, adjusting it slightly. "The Finleys."

The man nodded knowingly. "Oh... you must be Jane." I nodded and he said, "They moved out a few years ago."

"Do you know where they moved to?" I asked.

He gave me a morose look. "Why don't you come inside?" He stepped aside, offering me entry. I hesitated for a moment, but figured that he had something important to tell me about my family. I entered what used to be my old home.

He motioned me over to the sitting room, offering me a place to sit. I sat down. He asked, "When was the last time you heard from your family?"

I shook my head. "I got a couple of letters when I was overseas, but I don't know when they were sent...I..." I paused, gauging his interest before saying, "I was away from the line for a while, so my mail was held for me until I returned."

He seemed to buy the story and nodded his understanding. "I see." I saw him glance at my bag which still had the medic symbol sloppily sewn on. I had forgotten to take it off. He pointed to my bag. "Were you a field nurse?"

I glanced at my bag and shook my head. "Not really... I was a photographer with The Times."

He seemed a little confused but graciously didn't press any more on the matter. He was in thought for a moment before saying, "The Finleys - your parents - haven't been here in quite some time. They were having some medical issues from what I understand."

"What medical issues?" I asked. I didn't think there was anything wrong with them - my mother aside the day that I left, but they both seemed relatively healthy.

He swallowed, almost afraid to tell me what happened. "Your mother was having some behavioral problems; wasn't quite herself." I nodded, as I recalled how she was the day I left. He continued, "Turns out that she had problems remembering things, where she put things, who people were...and your father had been trying to keep things under control."

"What does that mean?" I asked, still unsure where he was going with this.

"Your mother left the stove on. Your father had to turn it off before it set the house on fire," he finally stated. My mouth fell open. That didn't sound like her at all. He continued, "Your father had come home and she attacked him, thinking he was an intruder. He was taken to the hospital to be treated for his wounds."

"What the hell did she do to him?" I blurted out in surprise.

The man raised an eyebrow at my words, but continued. "It was at that hospital visit that your mother was taken into psychiatric care, where from what I've been told, has since died from complications due to it."

I blinked at his words. "What?"

He offered a sympathetic smile. "I'm sorry to have to be the one to tell you about it."

"What about my father? What happened to him?" I asked.

The man lowered his head, looking at his clasped hands in his lap. When he raised his gaze back to me, I could see it written on his face. "He never recovered from the wound your mother inflicted on him. He held on for a little while, but..."

I swallowed the bile that was rising in my throat. "Be honest with me...how bad was it?"

He hesitated before saying, "It was bad. I'm amazed he had the ability to live as long as he did to get to a hospital." I bit my lip, trying to keep the tears from flowing. The man asked, "What happened to you? Why didn't you reply to the letters?"

My voice was shaky as I replied, "Like I said, I wasn't at the line when the letters came in...I-I uh, I was captured and tortured."

The man's eyes widened and his face fell. He clearly wasn't expecting me to say that of all things. "I'm sorry...I had no idea-"

I nodded. "By the time I got their letters, it was far too long to have written back and after reading them, they practically disowned me anyways..."

"That was in the middle of your mother's decline," he said. "I'm sure that your father wouldn't have said those things about you."

I looked at him. "Who are you? I mean, you seem to know a lot more about them than I ever did."

He sighed, leaning back into his chair. "I was a contractor working on the house when things began to decline for your parents. I offered to help."

"Help with what?" I asked.

He said, "My wife is a nurse. She's used to dealing with people in the older years with issues your mother was experiencing. We were here often. I did work on the house for free, and my wife helped your mother until it was too late to do much more for her."

I looked around the room. "I take it that you bought the house shortly after?"

He shook his head. "No...that uh...that was given to us after..."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "They gave it to you?"

He nodded. "In their Will. Had I known that you survived the war, I would have fought their wishes."

I wiped the solo tear from my face. "I wouldn't have wanted this place anyways. I didn't exactly have a good sendoff in the end."

The man nodded. "I wish that I could be of more help to you."

I stood up and offered my hand out. He stood up and shook my hand. I said, "You've done more than enough for me...and my family. Thank you." He released my hand and followed me to the front door. He opened it and I stopped. I asked, "Were they buried nearby?"

He nodded. "The one on the curve," he said, pointing down the lane. "They have a nice spot on the hill. You can't miss it."

I stepped out, waving politely as I headed down that way.

With each step that I took towards the cemetery, I began to think over everything. What that man said made sense, it all fit with my mother's behavior over the course of years before I left. She was beginning to become forgetful, but I didn't think anything of it. She never left things on, but she'd misplace things often enough. When she began to have a change in personality, I should have known that something was amiss. I think looking back on it, my father knew too. It was why he was so determined to keep her calm all the time. The day I left, he was comforting her, keeping her calm. I wondered how long he had known that she was getting worse.

I entered the cemetery and headed up the path towards the hill. When I reached the top, I could see the new headstones sitting under a tree. I approached them and saw a familiar name, Finley, etched in stone with beautiful calligraphy writing.

I knelt down and brushed the leaves from the stones. I stood up and looked down at them, releasing a heavy sigh. "I've come home."

I was on a bus, heading home, thinking over everything that had happened on my trip to New York. In a moment of weakness, I began to regret the way that I left - for leaving at all - but I wished that I had tried harder to tell them what they meant to me. I would never know what my father was trying to tell me in my dreams, I'd never know if they forgave me for going, I'd never know if they meant what they said about disowning me. These would be the questions I'd ask God when it was my time, but until then, I'd have to live with this looming overhead for the rest of my life.

As I sat on the bus, silently staring out of the window, watching the world whiz by, I heard an elderly woman ask, "Is this seat taken?"

I turned to look at her. She was motioning to the seat next to me where I had placed my bag. I grabbed my bag and brought it to my lap. "Sorry. Please," I said, motioning to the now empty seat.

She smiled warmly at me and sat down next to me. She pointed to my bag. "How long were you there for?"

I made a mental note to take the symbol off my bag. I explained, "All of it."

Her kind eyes widened slightly before she gave me a reassuring pat on my arm. "I'm glad that you made it back." I forced a smile at her. She added, "Not many came home, you know."

I nodded. "Yeah...I know..."

She studied me for a moment. "You don't look like someone who would join the military."

I nodded again. "I didn't. I worked with The Times."

Her face lit up. "How nice! What did you do there?"

"I was a photographer," I stated. "I took pictures of the war that showed how things really were."

"Unlike those movie reels..." she said. I smiled and she mused, "The Times..." When her graying eyes widened, she asked, "You're not Jane Finley, are you?"

I furrowed my brow at her. "How do you know who I am?"

"Well, I think I have it here..." she said, opening her carpet bag, digging through. "Let's see here...ah! Here it is!" I watched as she pulled a stack of newspapers from her bag. She began thumbing through them and found the one she was looking for. She handed it to me.

On the front page, there was a small blurb written about a field photographer that was killed in the line of duty and to see page 15. I eyed the woman who encouraged me to turn to the page. On page 15, there was my portrait with an elaborate story about how I was brave and bold, taking pictures no one else dared to do, and it included a few more photos that I had taken with stupid captions. As I skimmed the article, I noticed that it said that they were still paying my dues to my family out of respect for me. I closed the paper and handed it back to her. I shook my head in disbelief. Had I known that this paper existed, I would have made a side trip to see Mr. Bradley at The Times office, but I didn't care enough then. Now, I wanted to tell the bus driver to turn around.

"It's amazing to see that you're still alive," the woman said, putting her stack of papers back into her bag. "How are you still alive? I mean, they made it sound like you were killed."

"That's because that's what they said," I reminded her. I rubbed my face with my hand before releasing an irritated sigh. "I should have known better."

"What do you mean, dear?" the woman asked, clearly wanting to hear my story.

I stated, "I didn't die. I was captured. I missed deadlines. My boss was a misogynistic ass who only wanted photos for his precious paper. Didn't care about me...I'm surprised he kept paying me if he thought me dead." I thought for a moment before adding, "I did met the replacement girl that he sent over. She seemed batty as hell." I turned to the woman and apologized for my language. The old woman looked amused and there was a twinkle in her eyes.

She admitted, "Well, the Bradleys were always pigheaded."

I tilted my head at her. I had never mentioned my boss by name. "How did you-"

"By the humor of God, Mr. Bradley, the Chief Editor at The Times, happens to be my son," she stated with a smile.

My face fell. "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean any disrespect!"

She waved it off. "You're right. He is misogynistic. Comes with the job, I suppose." She pointed to the bag that sat between her feet. "I was just visiting with him. I keep all of his newspapers that he prints. I was surprised the day that I heard about you. Then he ran the story of your death, and I asked him about you. He didn't ever say...now I know." She patted my arm again. "What brought you to New York?"

I replied, "To visit my parents."

"Oh, were they happy to see you?" she asked.

I shrugged. "Don't know. They're dead now."

Her face fell at my bluntness. "I'm sorry to hear that, dear."

I shook my head. "It's not like they were happy to hear that I was going overseas to begin with. However, I wanted to ask them who told them that I was over there prostituting myself." I turned to her and said, "I don't mean to be crude, but I have a suspicion that it was your son or his employees." She nodded, but kept quiet. I added, "I guess the joke's on me. I learned a very important lesson the hard way. Maybe next time, I'll actually do as I'm told."

The woman stayed silent the rest of the ride to the next stop. When the bus stopped, she switched seats and chatted with another older woman who had joined us.

You're going to be alone in life, Jane. This is my promise to you. One by one, I'm going to take those you care about away.

I closed my eyes and fell asleep.

I felt hands shaking me lightly. When I opened my eyes, I was greeted by the driver. "We've arrived, miss."

I squinted in the light and looked around. It was my stop. I nodded my thanks to the driver as he walked away. I gathered my bag around my shoulder and climbed out of my seat. I climbed off the bus and started to walk towards the sidewalk.

I heard a voice calling out to me. "Jane! Jane!"

I stopped, turning around. Eugene was standing there, waving me over. I smiled at the sight of him. He smiled back at me. I ran towards him, jumping into his arms, and kissing him hard on the lips. He returned the kiss as he set me back down on my feet. We broke the kiss and held each other for a moment.

He whispered into my ear, "I'm so glad you're back."

"How did you know when I was coming back?" I asked.

He admitted, "I've been coming here every day after work and waiting for the last bus to see if you were on it." I pulled away from him and offered him a half smile, almost feeling guilty. He shook his head. "Don't do that."

"Don't do what?" I asked.

He said, "Don't feel guilty. You did what you had to do." I was about to say something, but he cut me off. "Let's get some dinner and you can tell me all about your trip. I'm eager to hear."

I smiled as he opened the door for me and I climbed in. I was happy. I was home.

I told Eugene everything. I told him about meeting the man that now lives in my parents' house, the stories that he shared with me about my parents. I told him about visiting their graves. I even told him about the change meeting of Bradley's mother on the bus which led to the discovery of a story written about my death. I told him about how I felt that I'd never get the answers I sought from my parents until the day that I die. I admitted that I was feeling more at ease and more at home with him in my life and that I was ready to move forward, leaving my past behind me. He was all that mattered to me and it took this trip for me to realize it.

Eugene never interrupted me as I told him everything. He held my hand and listened. When I was done, he just smiled at me. I smiled back knowing that only better things were to come.

When we got home, he said, "I have a letter for you on the kitchen table."

"A letter?" I asked as I started to head towards the kitchen.

He hung up his coat and said, "It came shortly after you left."

I stopped at the kitchen table and spied the envelope. I picked it up and looked at it. I didn't recognize the handwriting. I turned it over and began to open it. Once the seal was broken, I pulled out the neatly folded paper and began to open it.

Jane,

I hope this letter finds you well. Adjusting to life after the war is a battle in itself, but those strong enough are able to prevail.

That said, I hope that the news I am about to share with you will bring you happiness. I have looked into finding out the whereabouts of your friend Anna Chiwy. I have located her as promised.. She is alive and well. She is currently living under her Christian name, Augusta, in Belgium.

I have other news that I want to share with you. In an effort to close all loose ends with our business in the Resistance, we have gotten word as to where Sauer and his wife, Marta are. Marta was found dead outside Zeebrugge. It is unclear if Sauer had his wife killed or if it was an unfortunate circumstance with the war.

Sauer has fled Europe and is currently in hiding somewhere in your United States. I do not tell you this to be frightened. Have heart that he is too scared to come forward. We are still looking for him. If there is any word on his whereabouts, I will notify you immediately.

I want to end this message with my utmost gratitude for your part in this war. Without you, I might have been killed. I take that debt seriously and I will do whatever I can to pay it back.

Your friend,

Faye

I stared at the letter in my hands. I couldn't believe what was written. First thing that made my heart jump was knowing that Anna was alive and well. It made me relax finally knowing the answer to that question.

The part that made me sick to my stomach was knowing that Sauer had somehow gotten State-side. The moment he set foot here, he went into hiding. No one had seen him since. This didn't sit well with me. I worried that the voice was right, that Sauer could come after me, even though Faye reassured me that he wouldn't, and he could finish what he started.

Eugene came up behind me. "Who's it from?"

I lowered the letter from my gaze and turned to him. "A friend...from the war."

"Oh?" he asked, sitting down at the table. "Fritz or..."

I sat down across from him. "No...I don't think I told you about Faye. She was the one that Sauer wanted originally."

"Sauer? The man who tortured you?" he asked.

I nodded. "Yeah. I met her. She told me everything that happened to me was meant for her...that I saved her and probably hundreds of lives."

I began to tell him all about Faye and the conversation we had at the lake. I told him about my request to track down Anna, and what the letter said. I mentioned that I was always worried that Sauer was going to come after me, that the voice always said that he would but I was afraid it was true.

Eugene said, "I won't let that happen." I lifted my gaze to meet his. He repeated, "I won't let that happen. Not to you, not again. Not if I can help it."

I smiled at him. "I know."

He leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. "I'd die first to keep him from you."

"Please don't say that," I whispered. I wasn't doubting his words, but I feared that it would happen. I didn't want to think about it.

He reached out and held my hand. "I mean it, Jane. I'd die to keep you safe."

I squeezed his hand. "I know. I know you would, but I can't think about it..."

He smiled and stated, "You've been through a lot - not just over the course of the war - but just these past few weeks. I bet you're tired. We should go to bed."

I nodded, following his lead upstairs.


	44. Scars

I heard a knock at the door and stood up from the table, reaching for the doorknob, turning it and pulling it open. Standing before me on my back step was my father. I stared at him, waiting for him to say something.

He began to mouth his words. This time, I was ready. "Jane... I'm sorry...tried...save you...mother was...over." I was having a hard time getting every word, but the words that I managed to get meant a lot, even if I had to fill in the gaps.

I waited for him to continue, but when he didn't say anything more, he blinked at me. I reached for him, but saw him screaming. There was still nothing but silence even though he was screaming in pain.

I rushed forward when he collapsed on my back porch. I grabbed his shoulders, looking for his face. When his head snapped up, I could see the blood gushing and spraying me and the floor. It was pooling beneath our feet. I reached for him to try and stop the bleeding, but he disappeared into a massive pool beneath my hands.

I stood up, staring at my bloody hands. Movement out of the corner of my eye caught my attention causing me to whip my head around. The shadow darted into the other room. I followed it cautiously.

In the living room, I saw my mother standing there, clutching a knife. She pointed it at me and shouted at me. There was no sound emanating from her. She was beside herself and I tried to reassure her, but the sight of my bloodied hands only made things worse. She lunged at me with the knife, ready to strike me.

I felt the knife plunge into my chest. I grabbed her as we both toppled to the floor. Laying on my back, she was gone.

I couldn't move. It felt like the knife was holding me down. I tried to remove the knife, but it was too hard to get out. My bloodied hands would slip off the handle each attempt to remove it.

I blinked and suddenly Marta was straddling me. She was speaking to me, but she too was silent. I saw panic in her blue eyes. She glanced about the room, on edge, searching for something or someone. My nerves started to grow weary. She reached for the knife, but her eyes grew wide and she screamed. Blood started to run down the bridge of her nose. It was then that I noticed the bullet hole in her forehead. She slipped off me and disappeared.

Sauer leaned over me, smiling evilly as he said, "I'm coming for you, Jane. It won't be long now." He raised a crooked blade up and slammed it into my face.

I screamed myself awake.

Eugene quickly shot out of bed, turning the light on, blinding both of us. He jumped back into bed and held onto me. "Jane? Jane?"

Sobs racked my body as I embraced him, gripping his shoulders tightly. After a while, I was able to regain my composure. When he asked me what had happened, I told him.

Finally, I understood what my dream with my father meant. I told Eugene that the reason my parents and even Marta, weren't making any sound, even when they were trying to speak to me was because they were dead. It made sense now. Sauer was the only one still making sound because he was still alive.

Soon, I'll be the only one dreaming, the voice taunted me.

Eugene had continued to stand firm in his statement to me about dying before anything happened to me. I believed him, and maybe that was what scared me the most. What I didn't tell him was all the blood on my hands in my dream. I felt personally responsible for the deaths of my parents and Marta in a way. The dream was telling me that their blood was on my hands, and I feared that if Eugene did anything for me and died, his blood would also be on my hands. I could tell that he wanted to ask me what I was thinking about, but he stayed quiet.

A couple of days later, Eugene came home from work and joined me in the kitchen. He smiled at me. "Smells good."

"Thanks," I replied, as I continued working on dinner.

He wrapped his arms around my waist, nuzzling my neck. I smiled and closed my eyes at his closeness. He stated, "You seem to be in good spirits."

I shrugged. "No breakdown today, no voices in my head yet, so I guess that's a good day."

He released me and leaned against the counter. "So, we've been invited over to Betty and George's place for a barbeque."

"Oh?" I asked.

He crossed his arms. "It's George's birthday, so everyone's going to be there." I nodded, not thinking anything of it. He added, "Which means that Susan and the rest will be there." I froze for a moment and he pointed out, "I know that the last time you were around her things ended poorly."

I met his gaze. "I promise that I won't embarrass her at George's party."

He raised an eyebrow at me. "So, you want to go?"

"Of course. I like them," I stated. "It's not fair to them to not go because it might get awkward with Susan."

Eugene nodded and said, "Okay. I'll let him know that we're coming. It's this weekend. Do you think that you can pick up something for him tomorrow?"

"Yes, I can do that," I said, stirring dinner.

"And," he added. "We should probably bring some kind of food, too."

I laughed. "I'll ask Betty what we should bring." He smiled at me again. I said, "Go shower. You smell."

He laughed and marched upstairs to follow my order.

I suppressed a smile, waiting for him to rejoin me in the kitchen. It wasn't a long wait before he appeared in the kitchen again, shirt unbuttoned and bare footed. He was holding a piece of paper. "What's this?"

I turned and asked, "What does it look like?"

He didn't blink at the question, but held the paper tightly in his hand. "Jane...is this what I think it is?"

I smiled wide, unable to hide my joy. "Yes..."

"You're pregnant?" he asked, almost needing me to say the words to make it all the more real to him.

I started to giggle, but suddenly stopped. "Is that okay? Are you happy."

It took him less than two steps to reach me. He kissed me hard, pulling me into him. When he pulled away from me, he asked, "Am I happy? My God, Jane! I can't believe it! When? How did you-"

I laughed as I explained, "I had a suspicion before I left for New York. I stopped by the doctor's office before I left. I just got the results today."

I watched as he started to cry happy tears. He embraced me again, squeezing me gently. "I love you, Jane. I love us. I love our little family."

"I love you too, Eugene," I whispered back.

The next morning, I called Betty after Eugene headed off to work. I heard the line ring and eventually she answered. "Hello?"

"Hi, Betty. It's Jane," I replied.

"Well, good morning, honey! What can I do for you?" she asked.

I stated, "I was calling to see what we can bring over for your barbeque tomorrow...and also to see what kind of gift to give George."

She laughed. "Darlin', you could give him anything and he'd be happy."

"That's not helpful, Betty," I pointed out.

She replied, "Well, if you really want to give him something, he does need some new work gloves."

"Done," I stated. "And for food?"

"Well, let me think," she started. "I think some of your amazing potato salad would be wonderful."

I chuckled. "Okay. I'll bring that."

"How are you doing today?" she asked.

I decided not to share the news with her just yet. Instead, I replied, "I'm doing well, thank you. I should probably get going though, so I can get those things."

"All right, darlin'. See you tomorrow," Betty said, then hung up.

I put the receiver back down and grabbed my things to head out to the stores. I had a mission and I wanted to make sure that I succeeded.

I entered the door to the hardware store and started to search for the work gloves that Eugene owned. He seemed to like them enough so I thought that perhaps George would as well.

I found them and grabbed a couple pair. I thought that maybe Eugene would be needing some soon too. I was happy to be in and out of the store quickly so that I could head to the grocery store next.

I approached the counter and placed the gloves before the clerk. After I paid for the gloves, I started towards the grocery store. As I exited the hardware store, I spied a familiar blonde entering the grocery. I groaned inwardly. I didn't want to have a scene with Susan in public again. I stopped short of the store, contemplating whether or not I should wait until she left, but realized that it was stupid to do so. Taking a deep breath, I ordered myself to move forward and into the store.

I knew the recipe for the potato salad by heart, as it was Eugene's personal favorite, and I made it often enough. I grabbed a basket, and quickly tried to grab what I needed all the while avoiding Susan.

I thought I had done a good job of getting everything, but when I approached the counter, Susan was standing in front of me. I closed my eyes and willed that she wouldn't see me.

I was not lucky enough to be invisible. She turned around and saw me standing behind her. She blinked at me, almost amazed to see me in public again. She forced her fake smile and spoke in her overly syrupy voice, "Jane! What brings you here?"

I fought every urge to be sarcastic, and instead simply replied, "I had to get a few things."

She glanced into my basket and nodded. "I see. Is that for George's party?" When I nodded, she replied, "George isn't a fan of mustard, you know. I'm sure you already know to omit that."

I blinked at her, forcing a smile but staying quiet. I knew better not to trust her because Betty would have said something. I also knew that the last time I made it for people, George ate several helpings of it.

Susan started dumping her things onto the counter. I shifted in my place. When she was finished, she paid and turned back to me. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow! Take care, Jane! Lovely to see you out and about."

I waved as she walked out of the store. The clerk released a heavy sigh. I met his gaze. He stated, "I hate that woman."

I chuckled. "She's not that bad..."

"That's a nice way of saying she's a bitch but you get used to her," he stated. His face flushed red and quickly added, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

"Your secret's safe with me," I replied. I leaned in and whispered, "Besides, you're not too far off there anyways."  
I paid and nodded my thanks to the clerk as I grabbed my bags and headed out the door towards home.

As I walked, I heard a car slowing down next to me. I glanced over my shoulder to see Susan. I held back a groan.

Susan shouted, "Do you need a lift?"

I shook my head. "Thanks, but I'm fine walking."

"Oh, dear...that's quite a long walk though," she started.

I cut her off. "I've walked further than a few blocks, Susan. Thank you, but I'll be fine. I'll see you tomorrow."

Susan looked disappointed in not being able to take me home, but I didn't trust her enough to ride with her. I watched as she drove off, clearly irritated. I began to worry that by saying no to her, I was setting myself up for another fight with her tomorrow.

I finally arrived back to the house. Once inside, I set the bags on the table. My arms thanked me for the break. I took the gloves out of the bag and placed one set where Eugene usually eats dinner, while the other I set aside to wrap.

I began my task at making the potato salad so it was ready to go for tomorrow's party. I started cutting the potatoes, placing the cut up ones into a pot full of water. The knife slipped and I caught the blade with my fingers. I let out a shriek and quickly rushed to the sink to wash the cut out.

The burn of the cut brought a wave of memories from my torture forward. Seeing the blood made it seem so real to me. Images of Sauer holding the bloodied curved blade in front of my face flashed before my eyes. As the water began to warm, I was reminded of the scalding hot water cloth that was used on my wounds. My sides ached from the memory as if it were happening again.

I shut the water off, wrapping my hand in a towel. I slumped down to the floor, leaning against the cabinets, head against my knees. I cried. I thought that I was over this. I hadn't had any flashbacks in a while. I thought I was getting better, but this proved to me that I had a long way to go.

I heard the door open, then close shortly after. "Jane?" a voice shouted from the front of the house. I heard the familiar footsteps approaching the kitchen. When Eugene saw me sitting on the floor, hand wrapped in a towel, he rushed to my side. "What happened?"

I sniffled. "I cut myself."

"How bad is it?" he asked as he started to unwrap the towel from my hand. Once it was unwrapped, he examined it. "I'll grab the med kit. Sit tight."

Memories of Eugene in his medic gear flashed before my eyes. I was beginning to remember him helping men in the field, dressing wounds, making bandages, and stitching up lesser wounds to keep men on the lines.

I saw a flashlight blind my eyes. When it was lowered away from my face, I blinked a few times, trying to get my vision to normalize.

"How many fingers am I holding up?" Roe asked.

I looked at his hand. He was holding up four fingers. "Four."

He held my face as he tilted my head back and forth, looking for any obvious wounds that he might have missed the first look through. "Any ringing in your ears?"

I shook my head. "No."

"Do you know where you are?" he asked.

I blinked at the question. My eyes darted around the scenery, looking for clues, but when the only thing I could see was heavy smoke, snow, and trees, I shook my head. "The woods?"

He furrowed his brow. "What's your name?"

I went to answer but stopped short. "Uh..." He looked concerned for me. I thought hard before saying, "I know it...I just...I can't remember."

He sighed. "What's the last thing you remember?"

I licked my lips, tasting blood. I wiped my mouth with my hand. There was a small trace of blood lacing my fingers. "What happened to me?"

He put his hand over mine. "I'm asking the questions, Jane. What do you remember?"

I thought for a moment. "Running. You helping me sit up..."

His concern grew heavy on his face. "Anything else?"

I shook my head. "No...why? What's the matter with me?"

"Seems like you hit your head a little harder than we thought," he admitted. "You were in an accident." He looked around before saying, "We need to get you to a foxhole."

"Foxhole?" I asked, clearly confused. "Like what they used in wars?"

He sighed. "You're in a warzone, Jane. Right now, it's the safest place for you to be."

He helped me up and started to lead me towards the safety of a foxhole. We were stopped by a tall man. He looked me over and then to Roe. He asked, "What's the word? How is she?"

Roe shook his head. "I'm still working on it."

"If she's a liability, Doc, I need to know. I don't need her here killing our men," the man stated. "Now, I'm going to head to Battalion and let them know what's happened here."

We stood there and watched as the man disappeared into the woods. I asked, "Who was that?"

Roe muttered, "Our commanding officer, Dike."

We approached the foxhole and we both climbed in. He studied my face. I asked, "What?"

"Are you sure you can't remember anything? Do you remember me?" he asked, a hint of desperation in his voice.

I shook my head. "I'm sorry...but...I don't even know who I am."

His face fell. He looked like he had just lost someone near to his heart.

Eugene was back beside me, kneeling on the floor before me. "Jane? You okay? You seem distant."

I nodded. "Sorry...I was just remembering something."

His head lifted up from his work. "What?"

I let a soft chuckle out. "I remember you helping me right after my accident." I told him about the memory then asked, "Is that what happened?"

He smiled. "Yes. That's about right."

"I'm sorry that I forgot so much. I wish that I could remember everything back then," I admitted.

He shook his head. "I love you, Jane. The person you were, the person you are. I don't expect you to be both."

I placed my free hand against his cheek. "I know. I love you, too."

He finished bandaging my fingers and said, "You'll need to keep those clean." He glanced up at the potatoes and knife on the cutting board. "I'm sure Betty will understand if we don't bring this." He stood up, extending his hand to me. I took it and he helped me to my feet. He kissed me gently on the lips. "I'll get dinner going."

"Okay, I'm going to get cleaned up," I said. I watched as he started cleaning up my mess. I turned and headed upstairs to our room. I pulled a new shirt out from the closet and set it down on the edge of the bed. I tugged my shirt off and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My scars were bright red, as if agitated. I wondered if my flashbacks had caused the irritation.

I pulled my shirt on, grabbed a spool of ribbon, and padded back downstairs. Once I was back in the kitchen, I sat down at the table and tied some ribbon around the work gloves that were meant for George.

Eugene eyed me as I worked. "Those for George?"

I smiled up at him. "Yes. Betty said that he needed some new gloves."

He nodded. "Those are perfect. I could use some new ones, too, soon."

"That's why I got you a pair," I admitted. He turned to see if I was kidding. I pointed to his place at the table. "There's yours."

He came over and placed a kiss on top of my head. "What would I do without you?"

I sighed. "You probably wouldn't have to worry so much-"

He cut me off. "Don't do that. Don't assume that I'd be happier without you." I noticed he seemed a little upset by my words. "After everything we've been through together...you still honestly think that I'm going to be happier without you in my life?"

"I never said that you'd be happier, just less stressed," I replied. "I didn't mean to upset you...I just...I don't know, Eugene. I sometimes feel like I'm a burden to you with my breakdowns and flashbacks..."

He turned away from me to work on dinner. "I have never regretted staying with you, Jane. I never will."

We stayed silent for the rest of the night.


	45. Heroes

The morning light peeked through the window as I began to wake. I could hear the birds chirping happily outside my window. I could also make out the faint sounds of wood being worked. I sat up and saw that Eugene was already awake and gone from the room. I climbed out of bed and walked over to the window, gently brushing the lace curtain from the window.

I could see Eugene working on something outside in our yard. I watched him for a while before getting dressed and heading downstairs.

When I entered the kitchen, heading towards the back door, I spied a vase filled with fresh wildflowers. I smiled at the sight of them and took a deep breath in. My lungs were filled with their sweet aroma. I forced myself away from the beautiful flora and headed outside to where Eugene was busy at work.

I stepped out into our backyard and watched him for a while before nearing him. He glanced up and met my gaze. He smiled wide and stopped working, approaching me. I motioned to the house saying, "Thank you for the flowers. They're beautiful."

"You're welcome," he said. "I saw them and thought of you." I kissed him, wrapping my arms around him. He returned the gesture.

I pulled away and asked, "What are you working on?"

He smiled proudly as he grabbed my hand, pulling me towards his work. "I've been planning this since you told me that you were pregnant." He showed me the designs he had on his station. I glanced them over and looked at the wood. He stated, "I know it doesn't look like much now, but I promise that this crib is going to look just as good as any that we could buy."

A smile broke out across my face. "A crib?"

He asked, "Is that okay?"

I threw my arms around him, pulling him in tight. "It's perfect, Eugene. Absolutely perfect."

The rest of the morning, Eugene spent it working on the crib until it was time to get cleaned up for George's birthday party. When he was finished getting cleaned up, he came downstairs and asked, "Are you ready to go?"

I stood up from the table, nodding. "I just have to grab his gloves."

We gathered our things and headed out to the car where we would drive to our friends' house.

We pulled up to Betty and George's house. There were already so many people there enjoying the party. We had to park a few houses away and walk to their house.

We walked around to the back where everyone had gathered. When Betty spied us, she came over to greet us, giving me a warm embrace. "Nice to see you both! Welcome!"

"Where should I put these?" I asked, holding out the gloves.

She pointed over to a small table. "You can drop them off there. Thank you for doing that." I nodded and she noticed my bandaged hand. "What happened here?"

Eugene replied, "A little accident while making your potato salad..."

"Oh, are you okay?" she asked.

I nodded. "I'm fine. Luckily for me, I married my medic." I smiled and glanced over at Eugene who just smiled back.

Betty chuckled. "Well, he does good work." She motioned to the party. "Help yourselves to drinks and food."

We nodded and headed to the tables of refreshments. I put the gloves on the small table as we passed it. I noticed that the gift I brought was simply tied with ribbon while others had gone the extra mile and wrapped it up in neat boxes.

I muttered, "I should have wrapped those better."

Eugene shook his head. "Don't worry about it. George isn't into all that."

We approached the drinks and looked at the options. I noticed that there were only alcoholic beverages. Eugene and I exchanged glances. He offered, "I can get you some water from inside-"

I waved it off. "It's okay. I'm not that thirsty."

He offered me a half smile, but didn't press the matter any more. He grabbed a beer and opened it. Taking a swig from the bottle, he stopped and whispered, "Is it okay that I have one?"

I laughed. "It's fine, thanks for asking." I looked over at Betty. She was greeting more people but she turned to me and waved to me. I turned to Eugene. "Betty's waving to me. I'm going to see what she needs."

"Have fun," he replied.

I moseyed across the yard and stopped next to her. She smiled at me and admitted, "Susan mentioned to me yesterday that you seemed distant with her."

I laughed. "Really? I wasn't distant."

"What happened?" she asked.

I cleared my throat. "I refused a ride from her."

Betty returned the laugh. "You're probably safer outside the car than in it with her."

I chuckled. "Why is she trying so hard? I mean, since the incident at the boutique-"

Betty shrugged. "You know, Susan. She can't stand anyone not liking her."

"She's not that loveable," I muttered.

Just as I finished saying that, Susan and her husband had pulled up.

"Speak of the devil and he shall appear," I whispered.

Betty glanced at me sideways. "She. She shall appear."

I let a hearty laugh loose. Susan and her husband approached Betty and me. Her husband nodded hello but made a beeline to the drink table and where the men were. Susan glanced at me briefly before turning to Betty.

"Where would you like me to set up the mimosa bar, Betty?" she asked, her voice filled with an air. "I've also brought George's gift." She lifted the delicately wrapped box in her one hand while holding onto two bags of mimosa ingredients.

Betty pointed across the yard to the tables. "You'll find them as you go."

Susan smiled and brushed passed me. We watched her meander across the yard, plopping the gift box onto the table.

Betty sighed. "She never ceases to amaze me."

"How so?" I asked, watching Susan rearrange the gifts so that hers was nicely set up.

"Like you, she called to ask me what she should bring. She ended up vetoing my suggestions, saying that she needed to bring mimosas because it would make this even more classy," Betty stated. "Because George is all about the class." We laughed. She turned to me and said, "I noticed that you don't have a drink."

I nodded. "I wasn't thirsty."

She narrowed her brown eyes at me, clearly skeptical. "Jane...what are you hiding from me?"

I smirked. "Nothing, yet."

She leaned in close. "Are you ..."

"What?" I asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

"Are you expecting?" she whispered. When I nodded, she squealed for a moment before gathering herself. She asked, "Does anyone know?"

"If by anyone, you mean Eugene, then yes," I admitted. "If you mean anyone else outside of you, me, and him, then no."  
Betty smiled. "I'm happy for you, Jane. I really truly am."

I involuntarily flinched at the word 'truly'. Betty saw it but didn't comment.

"Why are you happy? For whom?" the familiar voice of Susan asked.

We turned our glances over to her as she approached. She looked between the two of us, narrowing her eyes suspiciously, knowing a secret was being told and she wasn't a part of it.

Betty waved off her questions and asked some of her own. "Did you get everything set up over there?"

Susan nodded, lips pursed, expecting an answer. She turned to me. "I see that you don't have a drink... would you like mine?"

I shook my head. "No, thanks."

"Please, it's rude to be at a party with no drink in your hand. I can easily get another," she stated. "I insist."

I held her gaze as I took the drink from her. She smiled wide and turned on her heel to grab a new one for herself. I looked at Betty and asked, "What is her problem?"

Betty shrugged. "She's intuitive. She knows we're keeping something from her."

Susan reappeared next to us with a fresh drink of her own. She raised her glass. "Cheers." When I just faked a smile but didn't drink, she pointed out, "It's bad luck to not cheers and drink."

"Guess I've got bad luck," I replied, setting the drink down on a nearby table.

Susan glanced between Betty and me again, then smiled wide. "You're not pregnant, are you?"

Betty interjected, "And if she is? Susan, it's none of our business."

"Oh, I don't mean it that way, Betty," Susan began. "I'm just worried. Does Gene know? How will this child handle ..." she trailed off before looking down at my abdomen.

I narrowed my eyes at her. "Handle what, Susan? My scars? I somehow doubt any child would care about scars."

"It's not just about the scars, Jane," she stated. "But you're right...it's none of my business." She smiled a knowing smile, and I knew that she had gotten the answer that she wanted.

I crossed my arms over my chest. "And why would you assume that Eugene wouldn't know?"

She shrugged. "You seem very secretive, that's all."

"Secretive to you," I mumbled. She eyed me out of the corner of her eyes but drank from her glass instead of retorting.

I shook my head and looked over to Betty, who in turn, just shrugged.

It wasn't long before our awkward silence was interrupted by George. Betty asked, "What can I do for you, baby?"

George looked between all three of us before saying, "We're out of cups. I was going to head to the store and grab more."

"I'll go," I offered. "It's your birthday after all. You should stay and enjoy yourself." George smiled and handed me money, to which I waved off. "I'll get them."

"Thank you very much, Jane," he replied. "We're also getting a little low on plates, if you wouldn't mind."

I nodded. "Of course." I turned to Betty and said, "I'll be back soon. Let Eugene know where I've gone."

Betty nodded and I heard Susan say, "I'll come with you."

I shook my head. "I've got it, Susan. Besides, you've been drinking."

"I didn't say that I'd drive, now did I?" she countered. "Besides, it would be good for us to spend more time together."

I balled my fists, but quickly released them. "Fine."

The two of us began walking towards the store. We remained silent as we walked away from the house. The moment the house was far behind us, Susan began speaking.

"So," she started. "Does Gene know that you're expecting?"

I clenched my teeth. "Yes."

"Good. That's good," she replied. "How far along are you?"

I looked over at her, trying to see what her game was. When I saw genuine interest, I replied, "About 10 weeks."

She nodded. "I was pregnant once." I looked at her, almost in shock. She looked at her feet for a moment, something that she never did when she walked, before adding, "I lost it though."

"I'm sorry," I replied honestly.

She shrugged it off. "It's in the past and it's better that way."

I furrowed my brow at her. "Why do you say that?"

She laughed. "Can you imagine us with a child?" She scoffed. "My husband can barely handle me!"

I laughed unintentionally at her remark, but when I laughed, she smiled. It was the first true smile that I had seen from her. It was in this moment that I realized that Susan was just miserable and lonely. She was looking for someone to understand her, to try and become friends with - true friends, not those who did what she said because she was the richest of all of us. I took a moment to make a mental note to make more of an effort in being nicer to her.

"How did Gene take the news?" she asked.

"He was happy," I replied.

We reached the store and I opened the door. Susan walked in first and waited for me to enter behind her. We started to head towards the paper cups and plates.

"How do you think you guys will handle a kid with your war experiences?" she questioned.

I tilted my head at her confused. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Well, I'm sure that you both have memories of the war," she stated. "Memories like that wouldn't be conducive for a child." I stopped in the middle of the aisle and stared at her. She turned and quickly added, "Well, are you having trouble still? I've heard that-"

"You've heard what?" I snipped.

She looked taken aback. "Gene's mentioned in passing that you're still reeling from the war..."

I raised an eyebrow at her. "Really?"

She raised her hands defensively. "I don't want to fight with you, Jane," she said, lowering her hands. "I just meant that maybe it's not a good time if you're still struggling with the horrors of war."

The way she said 'horrors' made me think that she still didn't understand what happened back there. I shook my head, biting my tongue as I brushed passed her. She followed me down the aisle.

"I'm sorry if I've offended you," she said, walking behind me. "I really am, Jane. I'm not sure why you hate me."

I spun around to look at her. "Really? You haven't a clue why I'm not a fan of yours?"

She sighed. "I really don't."

I held back a laugh. Finally, I sighed in defeat. "Let's just get the stuff and go."

We gathered the items and started to the front of the store. She added, "I honestly don't think that war is good for anything." She shook her head and said, "I really don't. I personally think that people who've been there have no skill sets back home." She placed the items onto the counter and turned back to me as I set my things beside hers. "You said you were a photographer for a newspaper, that's why you were there. Gene said that you were also trained to be a medic...but you're not a nurse. You're not a doctor, Jane. Why would they have taught you anything? Did anything like that stay with you?"

I felt anger rising as she spoke. I looked at her and said, "You know what, Susan? You're right. No one in the history of this God given green earth has any skill sets post war. It's amazing that we've lived this long with all the wars this planet has experienced."

Susan put her hands on her hips. "That's not what I meant and you know it."

"Do I?" I asked sharply. "From what I can gather, you've not only insulted me, you've insulted Eugene, and you've insulted millions of people who've served their country in the only way they knew how." I shook my head as the cashier began ringing up our things. I added, "Just because it doesn't look like we know what the hell we're doing, doesn't mean that we're useless."

Susan was about to interject, but she was cut off by two masked men walking in shouting, "No one move and no one gets hurt!"

Scattered screams were heard behind us. Everyone raised their hands in defense. The first man approached the cashier and demanded that he open his register.

The second one approached Susan, who was wearing expensive jewelry. He eyed her up and down. "Give me your jewelry," he demanded.

Susan shook her head. "Please, don't. They're sentimental-"

The man raised the gun up to her face shouting, "Does it look like I give a damn about your sentiments?" She flinched. He added, "Give it to me now!"

She whimpered. I stepped forward and the second man moved his gun over to me. I raised my hands up a slightly and stood next to Susan. I whispered, "Just give him what he wants, Susan."

"I can't," she cried. "They were my grandmother's."

"He's twitchy," I pointed out. "He won't hesitate to kill you."

She shook her head again, stubbornly. The man grabbed her by the neck and slammed her against the counter. She let out a pained cry. The first man aimed his gun at me, keeping me in my place. I held his gaze, while glancing over at Susan.

The second man started ripping her jewelry off her neck and wrists. He made a move towards her ears, when she took them off quickly for him. He motioned to her hands. "Rings, too."

She reluctantly started to take them off, but one of her rings was too tight on her finger. The man tried yanking it off her finger, causing Susan to cry out.

The first man shouted, "Forget it! Let's go."

As the second man was about ready to walk away, Susan reached forward to stop him. He pushed her back, aiming his gun in her direction. I rushed quickly forward, lunging at him.

Just as I knocked him out of the way, the gun went off. Screams filled the store and the two men, now spooked, took off out of the store, leaving the scared chaos in their wake.

I watched as they ran away, but quickly turned my attention back to Susan. She was laying on the checkered floor, her shoulder crimson with blood.

I crawled over to her. Her face was laced with panic and pain.

Memories flashed before my eyes. I was having flashbacks of treating a man behind the lines, in the freshly fallen snow. He had mortar shrapnel embedded in his shoulder and pec. He was bleeding profusely and I was doing everything that I could to keep him alive.

As I was recalling this memory, I could also hear Eugene in the back of my head, telling me what I needed to do to keep them from bleeding out, keep them alive. I saw the man's face from the war when I looked at Susan. In my flashback, I started to see Susan in the snow instead. It was as if my memory and reality were suddenly becoming one and the same.

I ripped my jacket off my back, laying it on top of Susan, keeping her warm. I tore a section of her skirt and used it in the wound, applying heavy pressure to her shoulder, which caused her to cry out. I looked at her face, making sure she was making eye contact with me. "You're going to be okay, Susan. Okay? I've got you. You're going to be just fine," I cooed. "Do you believe me?" She nodded, tears running down her frightened face.

I looked up at the store clerk, who was hovering over us. "Call the police. Get an ambulance here now!"

People in the store were murmuring around us, pointing at us as they watched me take care of Susan. The clerk, who was shaken up himself, hesitated for a moment before tripping over himself to make the call.

Susan turned her blue eyes to me, worry planted on her face. I held her shoulder tightly. I looked up and met the gaze of another man. I shouted to him, "Find me some tweezers or pliers! Grab some clean cloth and water!"

The man took a moment to realize that I was talking to him before he scrambled down the aisles to grab what I was asking for.

I looked back down at Susan. "You're going to be fine," I stated calmly. "I've seen worse in the war."

The man appeared next to me, dropping the stuff onto the floor beside Susan. I grabbed his hand and placed it onto her shoulder, ordering, "Keep pressure here. Don't take your hand away until I tell you to, do you understand me?" The man nodded and waited as I pulled tags off the items and soaked the dishrags in water. When I was ready, I moved the man's hands from Susan's shoulder, pulling my jacket off to the side so that I could get a better look at her wound. It was still bleeding quite a bit. I ripped her blouse around the shoulder. I wiped down her shoulder and grabbed the needle nose pliers the man brought me. I told the man next to me, "Hold her steady. She's going to buck a little."  
The man held her down and I fought the flashbacks of being held down by Sauer during my torture. I muttered, "Not now..." I saw that the man and Susan both heard me, but I focused on what I needed to do.

I moved the pliers into her shoulder, grabbing onto the bullet that was still inside. Once I had it clamped, I started to gently pull it out. The moment the bullet was free from her shoulder, I began cleaning her up with the rags. Thankfully for me, the man even brought a bath towel. I used that to make a makeshift sling, tying it on her shoulder to keep the pressure on it without having to apply it myself.

By the time the ambulance and police arrived, I had saved Susan's life. I was covered in blood, as was Susan and the man who helped me. I looked down at Susan as the ambulance crew started to bring in their gear and gurney. "You're going to be fine, Susan. They're going to take you to the hospital. You'll be home in no time."

I watched as they got her onto the gurney and wheeled outside, loaded up into the back of the ambulance and they were gone. I turned the to man who helped me and shook his hand. "Thank you for the assist."

He nodded, shaking my hand. "You're welcome. If it wasn't for you, she'd probably be dead." He released my hand and added, "I haven't seen someone do something like that since the war."

I returned the nod. "Yeah..."

"Who'd you serve with?" he asked.

I replied, "I was a field photographer. The men I was outfitted with taught me how to be a medic to help out."

He smiled. "You did great work." He went to cross his arms, but saw all the blood on them and opted not to. He added, "I served with the 10th Armored. I thought that I had left the bloodshed behind me." He shifted in his place, almost embarrassed as he explained, "It's why I froze when you were jumping into action to save her. I was having flashbacks of my own men dying in battle."

I nodded, knowing full well what flashbacks were capable of. I asked, "How often do you get your flashbacks? If you don't mind my asking, that is."

He waved the comment off. "I get them less now than I did when I first came home," he stated. "I've been seeing a doctor for them."

I tilted my head at the statement. "A regular doctor?"

He shook his head. "No, a psychologist."

"Is it working," I asked, staring at the pool of blood on the floor beside my feet.

He bent down and grabbed a clean rag, wiping his hands on them. He reached into his pocket and withdrew a card, handing it to me, he said, "I see him. He's quite good at what he does. I've got a long way to go yet, but it's getting better."

I took the card and looked it over. I smiled at the man. "Thanks."  
He was about to say more, but the police officer pulled him aside for a statement. A second officer came up to me and offered a warm smile. He said, "Seems like you're a hero here today."

I shook my head. "I just did what I had to."

"Not many people would be able to do what you did," he stated. "In fact, I'm not sure that I would have known what to do."

"You would have handled the situation as best as you could," I countered. I shifted uncomfortably in my place.

The officer noticed my uneasy and said, "You're probably right." He pulled his notebook and pen out. "I need to get your statement about what happened."

I nodded. "Is she going to be okay?"

He replied, "She'll live, thanks to you."

From the time that I had left the party at Betty's with Susan to the moment I was finished giving my statement to the police, several hours had passed. I knew that Eugene, Betty, and the rest would be worried. The kind police officer that took my statement had given me a ride back to the party. When we arrived, the officer informed Susan's husband about the incident and drove him to the hospital.

The guests at the party saw my appearance and started whispering and pointing at me. I knew that I looked a horror, but I also knew that I didn't care. I did what I knew how to do in the moment. Eugene came rushing to my side, kissing me over and over again, keeping me in his tight embrace, whispering softly to me. He would ask if I was okay, then what happened, and finally, telling me how much he loved me, how he was glad to know that I was okay.

We drove home and I explained to him the full story of what happened. I told him about the flashback of the man in the snow, which he explained was one of our men that had been wounded. I asked if he had made it, but unfortunately, that man was too severely injured and died later on at the aide station.

When I told him that I heard his voice within my head, guiding my hands in taking care of Susan, he smiled. He had been the one to train me as a medic. I took solace in knowing that whatever happened with Susan, she would survive because it was really Eugene that saved her, not me. Had he not taken the time to teach me how to heal, I wouldn't have been able to do a thing and she would have bled out.

We pulled up to our house. I headed inside and straight upstairs to clean up. I took a very long and hot shower, washing off all of Susan's blood that had caked on me.


	46. I Refuse

A week later, the police said that they had found the men responsible for the robbery and for the attack on Susan. Susan had stabilized from her wounds and was released from the hospital but remained on light duty until she fully recovered. She made her statement at the station and looked at the pictures of the men responsible, finally being able to finger who it was that shot her.

A couple of days after the men responsible were put behind bars, Susan had made a surprise visit to our house. I let her in and offered her tea, which she surprisingly accepted. She sat down at our table and waited patiently.

I placed the cup before her and sat down across from her. "How are you doing?"

She smiled as she sipped her tea. Once she lowered the cup from her mouth, she stated, "I'm well. Thank you for asking." She twiddled with the handle to her cup, clearly deep in thought. I waited, unsure if I should say anything yet. She looked up, still twiddling with the handle and said, "I was having a lot of nightmares since ... well, since that day."

I nodded. "Understandable."

She asked, "Have you had nightmares about the war?"

I blinked at her. "Yes. I still do."

She nodded slowly, looking back at her cup. "I'm sorry for my comments about the war and all of those horrible things regarding skills-"

I tried to reassure her. "It's okay-"

"But it's not," she said, her blue eyes raising to meet mine. "It wasn't until I went through that...that I realized that if you hadn't been there, I wouldn't be alive today."

I offered a sympathetic smile. "I did what I had to-"

"But if you hadn't known what to do," she said. "What I mean to say, Jane, is that I'm sorry. The war taught you how to handle situations like that...that's a skill that you can only be taught over there...I was naive, and I'm sorry for how I've been treating you regarding the whole thing."

I studied her face for a moment, seeing that she was being incredibly sincere in her words. I smiled a kind smile at her, reaching forward across the table and taking her hand in mine. "I forgive you, Susan. I understand. It's okay."

She squeezed my hand and smiled, letting a tear fall from her eye. She let go of my hand and wiped the tear away with her napkin, trying to keep her makeup from smearing. She chuckled. "I'm sorry. I'm still a bit emotional since ..."

I nodded. "I know. It's okay." I thought for a moment before asking, "How are your nightmares now?"

She sighed. "They're better now. I think it's been a few days since my last one."

"Really?" I asked, almost in shock. "What happened?"

She sniffled. "I've been talking to someone about that day," she said. "And...I went to talk to the men who shot me."

My eyes widened. "What?"

She nodded. "Yeah, the police officers let me confront them."

"How'd that go?" I asked, leaning back in my chair.

She shrugged. "I told them that I forgave them for what they did." She took a sip from her cup and replaced it back to the table. "I told them that I wasn't angry with them."

I blinked at her. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I asked, "How'd they take that?"

She smirked. "They seemed about as confused as you are."

I shook my head in disbelief. "I mean, that's bold of you to do."

"It was the truth," she said as she twirled her finger around the cup's rim. "The psychologist I've been seeing suggested that I forgive them and that it would help with the healing process."

"Did it?" I asked. "Help, I mean?"

She nodded, raising her eyes back to meet mine. "Yes. I think so. I feel better anyways. The nightmares are less, I'm not so angry, and I've learned that life is too short to behave the way that I've been behaving."

I smiled at her. "I can tell that you're a different person." She nodded, almost ashamed. I added, "That's a good thing, Susan. I like this person better."

She smiled wide. She glanced at the clock above the kitchen sink and said, "I better get going. I've got to pick up a few things from the store before making dinner." We stood up from the table and she walked around to give me a hug. "Thank you again, Jane. I owe you my life."  
We released each other from the hug. I shook my head. "Let's call it even." She nodded, waving to me as she showed herself out.

I sat back down at the table. I began to wonder if I should be talking to someone - someone professional like the psychologist that Susan and the man that I met in the store that day were about my experiences in the war. I was getting better at keeping the voice in my head at bay, but it crept up occasionally, same with the nightmares.

I finally made the decision that talking to someone couldn't hurt. If anything, maybe it would help me move on and make sure that when the baby was born, I wouldn't have that dark cloud looming overhead and holding me hostage in my own thoughts.

The next morning after Eugene headed to work, I pulled the business card that the man at the store gave me with the name and number of the psychologist. I stared at it for a while before finally forcing myself to pick up the phone and call the number.

The line rang once before a woman's voice spoke on the other end. "Dr. Parker's office. How may I help you?"

"Hello," I stammered. I took a deep breath before saying, "I was hoping to schedule a meeting with Dr. Parker."

I heard papers rustling in the background. The woman was humming slightly into the receiver. I was beginning to wonder if she realized that I was still on the phone. She finally spoke, "Would you be able to come in today at 2?"

My voice hitched in my throat. I cleared it. "Uh, yeah. That'd be fine."

"Your name?"

"Roe. Jane," I said. I was feeling uneasy.

More rustling in the background before the woman said, "We'll see you later today, Jane. Goodbye." I heard the click and was disconnected.

I hung up and stared at the phone. You're making a huge mistake, Jane, the voice sneered. You're going to embarrass yourself. No one cares about the war or who served it. This person wasn't even there. How do you expect someone who wasn't there to understand what you're going through?

I closed my eyes, trying hard to silence the voice again. It had been almost a week since the last time I had heard it. I thought I was doing well. I realized that perhaps making this call was the right decision, especially since the voice was taunting me again.

I kept myself busy during the morning just to keep my mind on something other than the words the voice was saying. I cleaned the house, I rearranged the books on the shelf, and folded laundry.

When it was time for my to head out to the appointment, I had left a quick note to Eugene and headed out.

Surprisingly, the office for my appointment wasn't very far. I opened the door and stepped inside. The inside of the office was very warm. There were bushy plants in front of the windows, comfy chairs up against the wall, and a small coffee table with a few newspapers on it.

There was a small reception desk on the far side of the room. Sitting behind it, scribbling on some papers was the woman I assumed who answered the phone when I called. She didn't bother looking up at me when I walked in. She simply said, "Have a seat. He'll be ready for you in a moment."

I stared at her for a second before sitting down in the comfy chair. I felt my heart racing. I was nervous and I was beginning to regret coming here.

You are making a mistake. You should run home now, the voice spat.

After a few silent moments, the door behind the receptionist opened. A young girl was in tears has she rushed out the door. I watched her, unsure if she was just upset because of whatever she spoke about or because the doctor did something to her.

"Jane?" a voice spoke to me. I turned and saw a man standing in the doorway to the back room. He smiled and motioned for me to enter his office.

I stood up and forced myself to enter the room. Once I crossed the threshold, he closed the door behind me.

The room was cozy. A suede sofa sat against the bay window. A coffee table sat in between the sofa and a couple of comfy chairs, much like the ones in the waiting room. There were several book shelves lining the walls, jammed packed with books. Near the door to the office sat a desk and chair. The desk was neat and orderly. I wanted to knock something over just to create a little disorder in this perfect room. It made me a little uncomfortable.

The man extended his hand to me. "I'm Dr. Parker. Nice to meet you, Jane." I shook his hand and nodded. He motioned to the seating options and said, "Please, make yourself comfortable." I chose a chair nearest the door. He pulled his chair from the desk and moved it over to the opposite end of the coffee table and sat down. He smiled warmly at me. He asked, "Can I get you something to drink?"

"No, thank you," I replied.

He nodded and asked, "What brings you in today?"

I thought about how I wanted to approach this. I explained, "There was an incident a few weeks ago at the store down the road," I pointed in the direction of the store. "A friend of mine was shot."

"Ah, yes," he said, clearly recalling the incident. "I heard the commotion."

I nodded. "A man who was there, who helped me save my friend's life, had mentioned you...that's how I had your number."

Parker nodded and crossed his hands onto his lap. "I encourage my clients to take a business card and keep it on them, just in case they need to talk in that moment." He thought for a moment and asked, "So, is that why you're here? The shooting at the store?"

I shook my head. "No, not really." I thought for a moment before adding, "I've been having flashbacks and nightmares..."

"Regarding what?" he asked.

"The war," I replied.

He nodded knowingly. "I see. Were you a nurse?"

I began to tell him my role in the war. The moment that I started to tell him about how I ended up with the job, how things were left with my parents before I headed off to Camp Toccoa, I found that I was saying things with such ease. It felt natural to be telling him my story.

I didn't go into great details, but when I finished my story, he had been taking notes throughout. He stopped writing in his notebook and looked up at me. He smiled kindly at me. "You've been through quite a lot, Jane." When I didn't reply, he said, "It's normal, what you're going through. Your mind and body have been through a war all in itself." I shifted uncomfortably in my chair. He added, "I'd like you to come see me again. I think that we can make great strides together."

"How often am I going to have to come here?" I asked.

He shrugged. "It depends on you. Sometimes, people need to come only a few times before they feel confident enough to handle life on their own terms. Others need that help...all their life."

I nodded slowly as I took in his words. I didn't want to talk to him for the rest of my life. I was determined to work things out by myself.

He said, "So, for now, I'd like you to come see me again in a few days. If this time works out for you, I'll block it off on my schedule."

I nodded. "That's fine with me."

He stood up and shook my hand. "It's great that you came in. I'll see you in another couple days." He walked me to his office door and opened it. I stepped through and headed outside.

When I got home, Eugene was already home. He smiled at me as I came into view. He stopped working on his project and gave me a warm embrace. He whispered into my ear, "How are you doing?"

I held onto him tightly. "I'm okay."

"Where were you?" he asked, pulling away from me.

I inhaled deeply before saying, "I went to talk to someone."

He raised an eyebrow at me. "Someone?"

I nodded. "A psychologist. He thinks that I need to see him a few more times."

Eugene listened as I told him about the appointment and how it went in general. When I was finished, he smiled. "I think that's a good start, Jane."

"You do?" I asked, clearly confused.

He laughed. "Of course," he responded. "I think that you will feel better about yourself and everything once you've worked it out. If he can help you do that, then I support you."

I smiled and kissed his cheek. "Thank you."

He returned the smile and turned back to his project.

I nodded, turning back to the house. "I'll get dinner started."

I saw the psychologist once a week for the next several months. I talked about the war, the torture, and what my day to day life was becoming. There were days that the therapy was helping and then there seemed to be days that I thought it was a waste of time. Those days were seemingly more and more frequent.

I mentioned to the doctor about the voice in my head, the one that mimicked Sauer, how he taunted me and made me doubt myself. He attributed all of that with the torture that I had endured. It was making me doubt that I was human anymore. It was a pretty accurate description of what I was going through.

One day while talking about Sauer, Parker asked me, "What would you say to him if he was here?"

"I'm sorry?" I asked, confused.

Parker motioned to an empty chair that sat across the room, next to the window overlooking the street. He said, "Imagine this Sauer, sitting in that chair." He turned to me, face completely serious. "What do you say to him?"

I blinked at him before turning my attention at the chair. I pictured Sauer sitting in the chair, legs crossed, hands folded neatly in his lap, staring back at me with a smug smirk on his face. His eyes laughing at me. I blinked my attention back to Parker. "I'd leave."

"You'd run?" he asked as he quickly jotted down a few notes onto his notebook.

I looked back at the imagined Sauer in the chair. He was clearly amused. I quickly stated, "Not running, just... removing myself from a situation I'd rather not be in."

Parker nodded, continuing his notes. I glanced back to Sauer who was laughing. I felt trapped, like I said the wrong thing.

Parker looked up from his notes. "After everything he's put you through," he said, pointing to the empty chair. "Isn't there anything you'd want to say or do to him that you wouldn't normally say or do?" He watched me stare at the chair and added, "There isn't a right or wrong answer here, Jane. I'm not here to judge you should you say that you'd kill him or whatever it is you're feeling." I glanced over at him, meeting his gaze. He said, "This is a safe place. I promise."

I inhaled slowly, thinking about what I'd say. I replied, "I'd leave. Why stoop to his level?"

Parker nodded slowly. "Rise above and be the better man."

I turned back to him, ignoring the amused Sauer that sat opposite me. "Something like that."

Parker looked at his watch and said, "I think we're making good progress, Jane. I'd like to see you again in a week."

I nodded, standing up from my chair. "Thanks," I muttered, unconvinced if I'd return. I felt like I was being mocked by my own mind with the conjured image of Sauer. I wasn't sure if Parker realized what it was he was doing to me, but I didn't want him to think that I was crazy for thinking the man was sitting in front of me.

Parker let me out and said, "See you next week, Jane. Take care."

Not all of the sessions had been bad, I admitted to myself. But lately, I felt like we were just running in circles, not making progress and I wasn't recovering memories or anything that I had hoped. I had been given some techniques to help silence the voice in my head, but there still wasn't anything definitive in helping me. At least, none that seemed obvious to me.

Eugene would often tell me that he had seen a difference in my behavior since going to see Parker, but I couldn't tell if he was being honest or trying to be supportive. He mentioned to me once that my nightmares were lessened and my flashbacks were few. What I didn't have the heart to tell him was how I was starting to get used to them; I was learning to keep them in check rather than making them go away on their own.

When I arrived home from the appointment, Eugene was sitting at the table, reading the newspaper. He didn't look up from his reading, but asked, "How'd it go?"

I dumped my purse on the counter before sitting down at the table with him. "Fine."

He glanced up at me. "Are you sure? You seem a bit down today."  
I shrugged. "I'm not sure that this is helping anymore."

He pushed the paper away from him, giving me his full attention. "Why do you say that? What happened?"

I explained the moment where I had to speak to the empty chair, but my mind had materialized Sauer there instead, laughing at me.

After I finished telling him the story, he ran a hand through his black locks. "Sounds like you weren't being honest, Jane."

"What do you mean?" I asked, my voice tinged with offense.

He sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Sounds to me that if you were honest, you would have put up more of a fight. Lashed out at the empty chair or whatever...but saying you'd walk away - Jane, I know better." I shook my head, ready to retort, but he added, "You went through Hell, Jane. He tortured you! You have the scars still. You're telling me that if you were given the opportunity, you wouldn't want to kill him?"

I stared at him. He was angry. His dark eyes were filled with hate and ire. I blinked at him. I could tell he was waiting for me to say something so I shrugged again. "What difference would it make now? What's done is done. I can't change that."

"That wasn't the point of the exercise, Jane," Eugene exhaled. He shook his head before standing up.

"Why are you so angry?" I asked, suddenly on edge.

He whirled around. "Because I'd kill him!" My mouth fell agape. I was taken aback by his sudden rage. Of all the times we had talked about what happened to me, he had never reacted this strongly before. It made me wonder why now. He continued, "I'm sorry if this bothers you to hear, but I have to say it. If I were to ever find this man, I'd kill him for what he did to you. There would be no man on this Earth that could stop me."

"You're not a killer," I whispered, trying to diffuse the situation. Eugene wasn't a monster. He was not a killer. He was a better human being than most...he had to know that. He scoffed, shaking his head. I added, "You want to know why I wouldn't kill him?" I watched Eugene's eyes turn back to me. I continued, "It would make me just like him. It would make me a murderer. Even hypothetically, there's no point in me behaving in such a way, because then he wins. He'll always win if that's our reaction to what he did."

The more that I spoke, the more I could see Eugene stepping away from the edge of hate. He hung his head and sighed heavily. Rubbing a hand along the back of his neck, he whispered, "I'm sorry." He turned to me and spoke a little louder, "It's not fair to you. I'm just...I don't know."

"Talk to me," I pressured him.

He motioned to the stack of letters on the table. "A letter came for you today, from Belgium. I guess it stirred up some old memories."

I rifled through the stack until I found the letter he was talking about. I didn't recognize the handwriting right off, but then something clicked inside my head. It was from Faye. My eyes widened. I quickly ripped the envelope open and withdrew the folded paper from within.

I quickly scanned the elegant print written on the paper.

Dear Jane,

I hope this finds you well.

We have continued to look into the whereabouts of Sauer. As I mentioned to you in my last letter, we knew that Sauer had gone to your country. I am writing to you to inform you of our latest developments.

We have learned from several sources here that Sauer had forged documents to secure safe passage to America. He is living under the alias of Edward Wilson. He's using a doctor as his occupation, whether or not he is currently practicing in America or not, is unknown.

I will write to you as soon as I have any more information to give to you. Keep safe, Jane.

Faye

I stared at the letter in my hands. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, the voices inside my head were silent - that silence was deafening. It felt like my whole world had just gone dark.

Eugene asked, "Who's it from?"

I blinked back to reality. "What?"

He motioned to the letter, then furrowed his brow at me. "Are you okay? You've gone pale."

I swallowed. "It's from Faye," I barely managed to say. "She found out that Sauer's living under an alias here in the States."

Eugene stiffened by the mention of Sauer. He asked, "What's that?"

I passed the letter over to him, which he took from me and glanced it over as I said, "I guess he's pretending to be a doctor."

Eugene scratched his chin. "Wilson...Sounds familiar." I tilted my head at his remark. He shook his head. "It's a common enough name, so it's probably not the same Wilson."

"Eugene?" I asked. "What are you talking about? What same Wilson?"

He put the letter down onto the table. "Some of the guys were telling me about a new doctor that works in the next town over. I guess he's an amazing baby doctor. I was keeping it in the back of my mind for when we were ready to go."

I shook my head. "I don't think I want to be near anyone with the name 'Wilson'."

He nodded. "I understand. I think we'll just do our own searching."

I smiled at him. "Thanks." He returned the gesture.


	47. Darkest Part

"Ah, Jane," Parker said, smiling as he held the door to his office open for me. "Please, come in. Make yourself comfortable."

I smiled politely as I brushed passed him into his office. I saw someone else sitting down, but his back was turned to us. I stopped dead in my tracks and looked back to Parker.

He smiled at me, motioning me to one of the chairs. "We have a guest joining us today. I hope you don't mind, it was sort of last minute."

I furrowed my brow at him. "I thought our sessions were supposed to be confidential; just between you and me?"

I felt Parker's hand on my lower back, gently pushing me forward. "It is, but I felt that today, we needed a little extra help."

I sat down in the chair opposite the guest. When my eyes lifted to look at the stranger, they widened and I broke out into a cold sweat. "What the hell is this?" Sauer smiled at me as he took in my shocked reaction. I quickly stood back up. "I refuse to be here if he's here!"

Parker raised his hands, trying to defuse a situation. "Now, now. We're here to help you."

"Bullshit!" I snapped. "Do you even know who he is?"

"This is Doctor Wilson," Parker stated. "He's come here as a colleague to help diagnose you."

"Diagnose me," I repeated. "You're insane. You're all insane!"

Sauer had yet to chime in, but continued to smile, finding this completely amusing.

I shook my head. "No... no, I'm not staying here. I'm leaving." I started for the door, but stopped dead in my tracks when the door opened and Lange walked in. My heart started racing. I felt the pressure of it beating behind my ribs. I feared they'd break with the force of the beating my heart was giving me.

"Sit down, Jane," the familiar mocking voice said behind me. "I'd hate to have to ask Lange to help you."

I slowly turned my gaze from Lange to the men behind me. Parker motioned to the chair again. "Please, Jane. No one is here to hurt you."

Sauer laughed and turned to Parker. "Speak for yourself."

Parker furrowed his brow. "Now, this is a safe place," he said. "You said you wanted to talk to her."

Sauer waved his comment off. "Talk, torture, it's all relative."

Parker stood up and shook his head. "I'm sorry. This isn't going to work. I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

Sauer sighed, placing his hands on his hips. He raised his eyes back up to Lange. "I'm sorry, Dr. Parker," he started to say. "But I'm going to have to ask you to shut up."

It happened so fast that it took my brain a moment to process everything. Lange had removed a pistol from inside his coat and shot Dr. Parker in the head, killing him instantly. When I glanced down at Parker, his eyes were still wide with fear, bright red blood pooled around his head as some seeped from the entrance wound on his forehead. He stared up at me, almost pleading with me.

Tearing my eyes away from Parker back to Sauer, he had just started to turn around to address me. I began to back away from him, but the backs of my knees hit the chair and I fell into it. I was trapped.

Sauer leaned down close to me, placing his hands on the armrests of my chair, boxing me in. He was so close to me that I could feel his hot breath searing my face as he spoke. "Now, do I have your attention?"

I whimpered, nodding and trying hard not to cry.

He smiled. "Good." He released his grip on my armrests as he stood erect. "Now, is this any way to greet an old friend?"

I swallowed, glancing between Lange and Sauer. I feared what was about to happen.

Sauer pointed to my bulging abdomen. "I see you've been busy." A wicked smiled passed over his lips. I feared for my child.

I scanned the room, looking for inspiration on what I could use to defend myself and my unborn child. The room had few items that would help. I knew that I would have to improvise. There was no way that I would allow him to come near my child. I didn't care what he did to me, but there was a boundary when it came to my baby.

He asked, "When do I get to meet the father?"

Through gritted teeth, I said, "Never."  
Sauer chuckled. "Still the same stubborn girl as always, I see." Sauer paced the area before me, Lange still stood by the door, waiting for an order from Sauer, and Parker still laid dead on the floor.

I closed my eyes, willing myself to wake from this nightmare. It had to be another nightmare. I prayed that this was just that and it wasn't real.

"Don't wake up on me, Jane," Sauer taunted. I felt hands on my shoulders, shaking me.

Hot tears seared my cheeks as the ran down. I felt a sharp jab in my stomach and cried out.

I bolted upright in bed. I felt the cold sweat running down my body. My hair was matted to my forehead. I looked over to see that Eugene hadn't come to bed. I wondered where he was, but I was glad he wasn't in bed to have experienced yet another nightmare with me.

The more the nightmares happened, the more guilt I faced because he deserved to live a life after the war without having to keep reliving it. It had been a couple years now, but for me, and most likely for him, it felt like yesterday.

I stood up and grabbed my housecoat, wrapping it around me. I walked over to our bedroom window and peered outside. I could see the outline of Eugene working with a small light, so not to disturb the neighbors, on whatever he was working on next.

I headed downstairs and stepped outside onto the chilly porch. Eugene heard me exit the house and looked up at me. He stopped working and trotted over to me.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

I shook my head. "Couldn't sleep," I lied. I nodded over to his work station. "What are you doing?"

He shrugged. "I couldn't sleep either. Figured that if I couldn't sleep, I might as well do something productive." He studied my face and asked, "Did you have another nightmare?" I wanted to lie, to protect him, but there was a part of me that didn't want to hold back anything from him. He deserved the truth. I nodded. He asked, "Do you want to talk about it?"

I shook my head. "Not really."

"Okay," he mumbled. "I should get back to work." He started to head back to his work station and turned to address me one more time. "You should try to get some sleep."

I nodded and watched him immerse himself in his project. Now I felt more guilty and my heart was breaking. What I was going through, what I was reliving, my nightmares, - everything - it was impacting our relationship. I could feel him pulling away from me. I was losing the one thing in this life that was worth fighting for. I couldn't imagine my life without him and yet, I was beginning to see that my real life nightmare coming to fruition and it scared me more than running into Sauer.

The next few days had passed painfully slow. Eugene had been working late into the evenings, that we rarely saw each other. I spent the days doing busy nothings, trying to keep my mind from believing the voice in my head that Eugene and I were heading to the end of a relationship.

Soon enough, it was time for my appointment with Parker. I would have a lot more to talk about this time, and I was both looking forward to it as well as dreading it. I wanted to fix whatever it was between Eugene and me. I just didn't know where to begin and hoped that Parker would have some idea as to what to do.

I sat in the waiting room, going over how I wanted to approach the situation with Parker about my personal life. It would be the first time that we would have spoken about my relationship with Eugene directly - not our relationship based on how my torture impacted us, but real relationship problems.

I looked out the window, watching the people and cars go by. I wondered what it would be like to be them, living a normal and happy life with trying to come up with a plan for dinner as being the biggest issue to face on a daily basis, to have normal friends and jobs.

A face stood out to me in the people passing by. In an instant, I panicked because it looked like Sauer. I stood up from my chair and leaned against the window to try and get a better view of the man, but his back was turned to me, walking in the opposite direction. My heart was beating fast and butterflies began sinking in my stomach. I thought I was going to be sick, but I had to calm myself down. There was no way for me to know for sure that this man that I had glanced briefly at was Sauer. It could just be a man who looked like him from a distance. It was normal to see people who resembled someone you knew...I hoped this was the case.

"Jane?" a voice spoke behind me. I turned and Dr. Parker stood in the doorway of his office, smiling at me. "Are you ready?"

I nodded and crossed the room, into his office. Upon entering the office, I saw a man sitting in a chair, back to me. Instantly, my nerves tensed. Memories of my dream came rushing back to me. My chest felt tight and my knees weak.

Parker said, "We have a guest today."

I could feel the bile rising in my throat. I couldn't get words out.

Parker motioned to the chair opposite the guest. I forced my wobbly legs to carry me over to the chair. I began scanning the room for objects to protect myself, and unlike my dream, there were more items that could be used to defend myself should the need arise.

As I turned to sit down, the guest was on his feet, looking at me. When our eyes met, my heart exploded. It was Eugene. He was offering me a kind smile, worry written on his face. I blinked back tears, but shock was clearly apparent on my face.

I sat down in the chair before I fell to the floor. Eugene walked around the coffee table that sat between us and chose to sit in the empty chair beside me. He grabbed my hand with his, giving it a reassuring and gentle squeeze. I was beginning to feel more at ease knowing that he was here and not Sauer.

Parker sat down opposite us and said, "Eugene had called me earlier today to see if it was all right to sit in on our session today. He has many concerns for you. I figured that you must have the same concerns he does." I looked over at Eugene and nodded. Parker added, "Eugene, if you'd like to start..."

Eugene shifted in his chair, letting go of my hand. "I'm worried that she's not getting better, but worse with each session that goes by. She's been coming here for a while now and her nightmares are increasing, she's holding back information about things, and she's not the same as she was when..." he paused, clearly thinking over past memories.

Parker pushed him. "When what? The memory loss? The torture?"

Eugene licked his lips before replying, "When she came back to me in Zell Am See."

I studied his face as he spoke about how he was worried about me when I had lost my memory during that barrage in Bastogne, how he feared I'd never recover any memories of us, and then when I was captured, he explained how it impacted him, how he feared that I was dead, but he kept holding onto the belief that I was alive. He explained the day that they took Foy and found me, the emotions he felt when he saw me, how it pained him to leave me behind in that hospital, and then the joy when I tracked them down when I escaped the hospital. He spoke about the times after the war, our quick wedding at the chapel in England before coming home, the struggles it was taking on both of us to readjust to life post war. How he wanted to help me, but he felt like he was failing at even doing that.

"If I can't save her from memories of the war, how can I save her or even convince her that life gets better with me moving forward?" he asked.

My heart broke. It sounded like he was tossing in the towel.

Eugene cleared his throat and said, "She told me about the question you posed to her last time."

Parker interrupted, "What question was that?"

"What she would do if Sauer were sitting here," Roe stated. "She said that she'd walk away."

Parker nodded. "I remember." He studied Eugene for a moment, adding, "You disagree with her."

"I was angry that she didn't share the same thoughts that I did," Eugene admitted.

"What would you do if he was sitting here?" Parker asked.

Eugene ran his hand through his hair. "I told her I'd kill him. After everything she's been through, everything that man put her through... I'd kill him and I wouldn't hesitate."

Parker turned to me. "You disagreed with him?"

I swallowed, looking down at my clenched hands. "Yes."

"Why?" he pushed.

I saw Eugene grab my hand in his, trying to reassure me that things were okay. I looked up at him, offering a small smile. "He's not a monster. He's not a murderer. He might be angry with Sauer for everything, but to stoop to the man's level, to do horrific acts to get even, so to speak, with a man who is pure evil, isn't who Eugene is."

I heard Parker scribbling notes into his book. He asked, "Is that why you'd walk away?"

I sighed. I had already answered this question. I turned my attention back to Parker. "You know that's the reason. How'd you put it? Be the bigger man?" He nodded. I added, "I can't change the past. I'm learning how, somehow, to live with the damage that's been done to me the best that I can." I turned back to Eugene. "I feel like I'm killing you slowly because I can't just get over it. I worry that our relationship is going to die because of me, the nightmares, the flashbacks...all of it. I couldn't live with myself if we don't make it because of something that happened a long time ago."

Eugene's dark eyes filled with tears, but he didn't let them go. He held onto them, taking the pain the words held.

Parker asked, "Do you think your relationship is falling apart?"

Eugene shook his head, never breaking eye contact with me. "Of course not. I'd never let that happen."

It was my turn to have tears fill my eyes.

Eugene turned back to Parker. "I think that this is our last session with you, Dr. Parker. I thank you for doing what you could for Jane, but I think that it's time that we handle things on our own."

Parker was about to rebuttal, but Eugene stood up, grabbing my hand and helping me to my feet. He led me out of the office and out the front door.

When we got in the car, I looked over at Eugene. "What are you doing?"

He threw the car into gear and drove away from the building. "Rescuing you." He kept one hand on the steering wheel as he reached over with his right hand, holding onto mine tightly.

I noticed that we weren't going home. I furrowed my brow when he didn't turn down our neighborhood. "Where are we going?"

He replied, "It's a surprise."

A couple of hours later, we drove up a dirt road. Old trees lined up along each side of the road, encasing it from the sun. When Eugene pulled up to a quaint cabin, he stopped the car, turning it off. He released my hand as he opened his door.

I looked around at my surroundings. We were in the middle of nowhere. I wondered what he was planning.

He opened my door and held his hand out to me. I took it and he helped me out of the car. "Where are we?" I asked.

He didn't say anything, but he led me passed the cabin and down a small trail that intertwined with the trees. When we cleared the woods, we were standing before a large lake. The sun was shimmering off the reflective surface.

Memories of us at his secret place before the war came crashing down on me. It as there that he and I shared our first kiss, told stories about our lives before the draft, what our plans were if we were to survive the war. Every conversation that he and I had there were suddenly as fresh in my mind as the session with Parker was just hours ago.

He studied my face before saying, "I thought disconnecting from the world is just what we needed." He stepped closer to me, hands on my hips. "I love you, Jane. I always have. I want to be there for you, no matter how bad things get, no matter how hard. As long as you are in my life, then my life is perfect."

I smiled at him. "I love you too, Eugene." I hugged him, placing my head against his shoulder. "Thank you...for everything... for never giving up on me, for believing in me, for protecting me."

"I'd do anything for you," he stated. He kissed my temple. "Let's go inside."

We started back up the trail. I mentioned, "I don't have a bag..."

"I packed for you," he replied.

"How long have you been planning this?" I asked, carefully stepping over tree roots and rocks.

He glanced over his right shoulder to look at me. "Honestly, after our conversation last night, I felt horrible for how things had turned out. I thought that there was more to what was going on than just your memory. So, I came up with it then."

"I'm impressed," I admitted. He chuckled.

We reached the cabin again and Eugene grabbed our bags from the car before leading us up the steps and into the house. Inside the cabin, it was musty and cold. It didn't take Eugene long to get a cozy fire going.

Once he was finished, he came up to me, placing a long and passionate kiss on my lips. I felt his hand caress the growing baby bump. He smiled happily. This moment was perfect. Our family was perfect.

We spent three wonderful days in the cabin together. We were able to reconnect on personal levels with one another and it helped us refocus our energies and priorities as a couple. It felt just like before I lost my memory; carefree and innocent, without a care in the world. We laughed, talked, and grew closer together. I didn't even hear the voices in my head or have any nightmares or flashbacks. This place in the woods was almost magical - almost as if it had completely washed away all of the negativity that had been brewing within me. For the first time in quite a while, I felt normal. I felt whole. I felt loved.


	48. Same Old, Same Old

A few months later, we were down to the wire of having to find a doctor to deliver our child. We had only a couple of months left, and even though I was ready for this baby to come out already, everyone said that those last few months of pregnancy drags on. I cringed at the thought. My back was always achy, my feet were swollen, I was feeling irritated, tired, and crampy all the time.

One particularly bad day for me, Eugene had come home earlier to help me rest. He made dinner and cleaned up afterwards. He even drew up a nice warm bath for me to relax in while he finished up some of his work. When he came to get me afterwards, he started to lead me to our spare room.

"Where are you taking me?" I asked, waddling beside him.

He squeezed my hand lovingly. "I have a surprise for you."  
"Couldn't you tell me what it is instead of making me walk?" I complained.

He laughed. He stopped outside the door, and stood behind me. He whispered, "This is going to be worth you seeing in person."

I sighed, feeling tired and achy, but decided to amuse him. I pushed the door open.

Inside the spare room was now our baby's nursery - fully completed. Sitting in the middle of the room was a large circular rug with a footstool and accompanying rocker on top of it. The crib that Eugene had been working hard on these past few months sat along the far wall, with the changing table and dresser next to it. There was a small bookshelf with baby toys and books, and a lamp next to it for those late nights. The room had been repainted to a lovely shade of lavender and white trim. Pictures of animals adorned the walls. Inside the crib that Eugene made sat a trio of little stuffed animals and a yellow blanket.

I entered the room, looking around in awe of all of his hard work. I couldn't believe my eyes that this was even here. It made the reality of our child coming even more real. I turned to him as he leaned against the doorframe. "When did you do all of this?"

He smiled, crossing his arms across his chest. "Since you told me about your pregnancy, I've been in here, making small changes, building the furniture..."

I waddled over to him, embracing him tightly. I felt tears of joy stream down my face as I nuzzled against his neck. "It's beautiful, Eugene! I love it! I love you! Thank you so much!"

He returned the embrace and kissed my cheek. "You're welcome, Jane. And you and our baby are worth it."

"This is my favorite room in the whole house," I admitted. I released him, kissing him firmly on the lips. "It's perfect."

He smiled and asked, "Do you want to try out the rocker?"

I nodded and he helped he sit into the rocking chair that he built. It was comfortable, gliding naturally. I smiled, closing my eyes. "This is nice."

He chuckled. "Let's get you into bed. You look exhausted."

The next morning, Eugene and I sat in the waiting room of a family practice medical center. Eugene held my hand, keeping me calm as I was incredibly anxious about the appointment. When our name was called, we followed the nurse back to meet with the doctor who would be helping us deliver our child.

She took my vitals and headed out of our room, where we would once again, wait. When the doctor finally entered the room, I released the breath I didn't realize I was holding in.

He turned to us and extended a hand, smiling. "I'm Dr. West. Nice to meet you both." He glanced down at my bump and chuckled, "Well, three of you."

I forced an awkward smile. I was uncomfortable. It wasn't really anything to do with West, but there was just something that didn't sit well with me. I also knew that we didn't have much choice in doctors anymore as we were really down to the wire.

After answering practically the same questions that were on our paperwork that we filled out earlier, we were able to leave. I mumbled to Eugene as we headed out, "Seemed like a waste of our time."

He laughed. "Are you hungry? You seem to get grumpy when you're hungry."

I snorted. "Do not."  
"Sure," he replied, opening my car door for me. "Let's get something to eat."

He closed my door once I was inside and walked around the front of the car, climbing in his side. He asked, "Do you have a preference?"

I shook my head. "Not really." He nodded and started off away from the clinic. After a few moments of silence, I asked, "What did you think?"

"Of what?" he asked, looking at me quickly before adverting his gaze back to the road.

"West," I said. "What did you think of him."

He shrugged. "Seems nice." He turned back to me briefly and asked, "Why? You don't like him?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. Just seemed off to me."

"Well, luckily for you," Eugene started. "You only have to seem him for a delivery and that's it." I laughed. He made it seem so easy. I hoped it was as easy as he made it sound, but I knew that that wasn't the case. He added, "Besides, if we deliver early or if he is called away on an emergency, we'll have a different doctor."

"Well," I mused. "Let's hope something like that happens."

After lunch out, we headed back home. When we pulled up to our house, Betty was waiting on our steps. I furrowed my brow, turning back to Eugene. "Why is Betty here?"

He cringed at the question. "Shit," he groaned. "I completely forgot she was coming by today." He climbed out of the car, waving to Betty as he came around to help me out. He shouted to her, "Hey Betty! I'm sorry! I completely forgot!"

Betty stood up from her spot on our steps and waved back. "Not a problem, Gene! Hello, Jane!" She waved to me as she watched us waddle slowly towards the house.

I managed a half wave back. "Hello, Betty. I didn't know you were coming."

The two of them helped me climb the few steps in front of the house and Eugene quickly unlocked the front door to allow both of us inside. Betty helped me with my coat and then into the chair.

Eugene ran his hand through his black hair. "I'm so sorry, Betty."

She shook her head. "Don't worry about it. Go to work. I'll be here until you get back."

I glanced between the two of them, confused. "What's going on?"

Both of them turned to me. Eugene stated, "I have to go to work, but I didn't want to leave you home alone. Betty kindly agreed to stop by to help out. I just completely forgot about it."

I nodded slowly, unsure if I believed him. This wasn't something he would normally forget, but I let it go.

He kissed the top of my head and waved to me as he rushed out the door.

I turned my attention back to Betty and asked, "So, what's really going on?"

She smiled wide. "One of the reasons I love you, Jane, is because you always know when something is up." She laughed. "I can't pull one over on you."

I narrowed my eyes at her, still waiting for an answer. "What are you planning?"

She smiled again. "Oh, you have guests." I tried to sit up and turn to see, but she waved at me to stay. "Don't move. I'll get it."

I watched as she opened the front door and welcomed all the wives of Eugene's friends, Susan and her posse. They filed into the living room, carrying wrapped gifts, drinks, and food. My eyes grew wide.

Susan smiled at me warmly as she stepped into the house. I wasn't sure that this was what I wanted to deal with today. I had thought it would be a quiet afternoon with Betty, but apparently, everyone - Eugene included - had different plans in mind.

Susan approached me. "How are you feeling, dear?" Without letting me answer, she looked at my belly. "My! You've gotten quite big! Must be a boy!"

I held back a sarcastic remark, forced a smile, and said, "Nice of you to come, Susan."

Susan had become a different person since the day she was shot, but in front of all of these other women, she seemed to have reverted back to her old ways. Maybe this was just her trying to be polite regarding the pregnancy, especially after her own loss. It was hard to say. I just hoped that she wasn't reverting back into the Susan before being shot because I loathed her then.

Susan walked into the kitchen, carrying whatever food and drink she brought with her and started to set up the kitchen to hold all the refreshments. As the women poured in, they passed off their food items for Susan to arrange esthetically.

Once all the women had come and found a place to sit, Susan entered the living room once again. "Drinks and food are in the kitchen!" she announced. "Help yourself!"

Some women got up to help themselves, while others remained seated, sharing in gossip and small talk with their friends. It wasn't long before Susan and Betty stood in front of me.

I raised an eyebrow at them. "Who are all of these women? I don't know all of them."

"They're friends of Gene's," Susan exclaimed. I wanted to roll my eyes and tell her that these women weren't personally friends with my husband, but I graciously let it go.

Betty noticed my agitation. "Would you like something to eat or drink?" I shook my head. She said, "Maybe opening some presents would help."

Susan nodded and began to gather all the women from the kitchen into the living room. Once all the women were properly seated in places deemed acceptable to Susan, the gift opening began.

There were several little outfits, blankets, and loads of diaper cloths. When we took a break from opening gifts so that I could use the restroom, Betty helped me into the bathroom. I asked, "Why are all these women even here? They don't know me - we're not friends."

Betty held back a laugh. "You know Susan. She wants to make sure everyone knows how generous she is."

"So, nothing's changed with her, then?" I asked.

Betty shrugged. "I think it did, but she doesn't want everyone to think that she has. Who knows. It's Susan."

When I was finished, we headed back into the living room. When I sat back down, I heard someone ask, "Do you think the baby will have her unfortunate eyes?"

The person the woman was talking to replied, "Better pray that baby looks more like Gene than her."

I gritted my teeth, trying to keep my mouth shut. For all the trouble that Susan and Betty both put into this party, I didn't want to ruin it for them. It was obvious by the way the women were behaving and staring at me, that they were all thinking the same thing. It reminded me of Sobel and his reaction to seeing my mismatched eyes. Memories of Roe and me in the aide station together as he ran his vision tests came back to me and I smiled.

A few hours later, the women began to leave. I waved my thanks to them as they shuffled out the door, leaving me alone with Betty, Susan, and a wrecked house.

Betty began cleaning up the living room, while Susan busied herself in the kitchen. Every time I tried to get up to help, they would order me back into the chair.

When they finished cleaning up the house, the sat down on the sofa across the room from me, making idle small talk. I smiled and listened but rarely joined in.

Betty asked, "Are you all right?"

I shrugged. "I think I'm just tired."  
"Are you sure it's not because of what those women were saying?" Susan asked, raising her tea cup to her lips. She took a sip, lowering the cup back down. "I heard the remarks they made about you and your eyes."

Betty turned to Susan before looking back over at me, almost afraid that I'd lash out at Susan.

I shook my head. "What do they know, anyways?"

Betty and Susan laughed.

The front door opened and Eugene stood in the doorway. He looked around, seeing that it was just the three of us. "Is it safe to come home?"

Betty laughed, standing up from the sofa. "Of course, it is."

Susan stood up as well, still holding onto her tea cup. "I'll just put this away. We should be going now."

Betty waited by the door for Susan and then they left together. Eugene closed the door behind them and turned to address me. "Were you surprised?"

"You knew about this?" I asked.

He smiled. "Of course. It was hard to keep it a secret. But I still feel badly that I made you late to your own shower."

"I wasn't late..." I muttered.

He knelt down before me. "You must be exhausted. Let's get you into bed." I took his hands and pushed myself out of the chair with his help in pulling me. We walked, hand in hand, up the stairs and into bed.

As I laid there, my eyes getting heavy with sleep, I realized that my life was perfect. The voice in my head was gone - as I hadn't heard from it in quite a while - I had everything that I could ever have dreamed about.


	49. Ghost Of Days Gone By

"What do you think of Edward?" Eugene asked, eyes peeking over the top of a book. I cringed at the name. His dark eyes retreated back into the pages of his book.

I stared down at the list of names we had agreed upon already. Outside of the words Boy, Girl, and Roe, we had nothing. I never thought it was possible that naming a child would be so difficult.

I blinked at the paper. My mind was blank, much like the paper was. Susan had suggested that we use family names. She said it was easier to use them than coming up with our own, but Eugene and I both agreed that if we were to do that, we'd end up upsetting someone in the end for either using their name or not. We opted to avoid the confrontations later on.

Betty, however, had suggested that we wait until the baby is born. She believes that a baby gets their name by how they look. Her parents had taken one look at her and determined that she 'looked' like a Betty. I had laughed when she told me the story, but now, I was thinking she might be on to something.

I decided that the best thing to do was to get my mind off the name topic. Instead, I focused my energy on writing the thank you notes to the women who came to the shower and the gifts they had brought us. I didn't even know half of them, but Betty kindly wrote out the list of the guests, what they brought, and their mailing address for me.

Every once in a while as I scribbled out a thank you card, Eugene would interject a name. If I didn't make a face right away, I mulled it over in my head. Sometimes, even after saying the name out loud, Eugene would even take it back.

By the time I had finished writing the notes, sealing them in the envelopes, addressing them, and sticking a stamp on them, we hadn't made any progress to the list. If we had a list of names we hated, I'd have about ten pages. We had decided to wait until the baby was born, just like Betty had suggested. I think we were just too tired and frustrated to bother coming up with any more.

Every afternoon, I found myself standing in front of the nursery. The room was still my favorite room in the house. Eugene and I had poured a lot of sweat, blood, and tears into rebuilding this house, but Eugene had gone above and beyond in this room, and it was in my opinion, the best in the house. I knew that it was only a matter of days before we would be staring into the room and there would be a child inside of it.

I smiled at the thought. I couldn't wait to tuck a child into bed, read them stories, encourage them in ways that I never had growing up. I wanted to be a better parent - the kind of person that I needed when I was a kid for my child. If I could succeed in allowing my child to be themselves, make their own mistakes, learn to pick themselves up when they fell...if I could teach them how to survive in the world without me - then I would have succeeded in every way a parent could succeed.

That night, I felt severe pain in my abdomen. My eyes flew open, and before I was able to cry out in pain, my breath hitched in my throat. In the pitch black of night, I thought I saw the outline of a man straddling me, holding a knife above his head, ready to strike me.

When I blinked, the man was gone. I had a break from the pain. I furrowed my brow, reaching over to feel Eugene. He was still asleep. I gave him a gentle nudge. "Eugene?" I heard him moan a little in response. I nudged him again. "Eugene? Wake up."  
He stirred, turning over to look at me. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know," I admitted. "It might be the baby."

The light flipped on quickly and Eugene was sitting upright next to me in bed. He looked me over. I was fine, aside from the pain.

He asked, "How long has this been going on?"

I shook my head. "I don't know...it woke me up."

He climbed out of bed and began dressing. Once his shoes were on, he grabbed my shoes and housecoat. "We should get you to the hospital."

I nodded, sitting up with his help. He put my shoes on for me, helping me with my housecoat. He held onto my hand as we headed downstairs for the car.

The drive to the hospital didn't take long at all, especially since most of our town was still asleep in the wee morning hours. When we pulled up, Eugene helped me inside.

The clerk had gotten us situated and in a room. The pain I was experiencing was clearly contractions. They said the baby was most certainly on it's way. It was just a matter of waiting for it to decide when to come. When I asked when that would be, the nurse had shrugged and said that she had seen some babies come within minutes of the parents arriving to the hospital, while others came a day after.

I survived torture, I thought to myself. I can survive this birthing process.

After a few minutes, I looked at Eugene. "Where's the doctor? Shouldn't he be here already?"

He looked at his watch. "I'm not sure, Jane. I'll go see what's going on." It wasn't long before he came back into the room. "The nurse said that Dr. West isn't in town, but his partner is coming."

I tensed. Something didn't feel right about this. How could a doctor leave town knowing that his patient might be giving birth? I had never met his partner. Who's to say that I'd like this doctor?

Ten minutes had passed, but it felt like hours. There was a knock on the door and the nurse walked in. "As I'm sure your husband as already explained to you," she said, motioning to Eugene. "Your normal doctor is out of town, but his partner is here. He'd like to come and see you, if that's okay with you?"

I gritted my teeth. "It's not like I have a lot of options, do I?"

Eugene glanced between an angry me and a stunned nurse. He quickly chimed in, "Yes, please. Let him in."  
She backed out of the room cautiously to find the doctor. When another knock landed on the door, and the door opened, my eyes widened.

Surprise! the voice that had been silent for months had screamed in my head.

Standing before us, wearing a white coat, and an impish grin, was Sauer in the flesh. When his eyes landed on me, his smiled vanished and the look on his face matched mine.

"You..." his voice muttered with a sharp tone.

Eugene looked between the two of us. "Do you two know each other?"

I never took my eyes off of him. I sat up. "This is Sauer."

Eugene stood up, placing himself between us. He asked, "What the hell do you think you're doing here?"

"I'm your doctor," Sauer stated. His voice brought back memories of dark rooms and broken bones and seared flesh.

"The hell you are," Eugene spat. I had never seen this side of Eugene before. I had only ever seen him in the role of the medic; caring, nurturing, calm. This was a Eugene that was ready to fight, ready to kill.

The nurse walked in but stopped when she saw the scene that lay before her. She exchanged glances with all of us. "Is everything okay here?"

"No," Eugene hissed. "We need a new doctor."

"There isn't one," she stated. "What's wrong with Dr. Wilson?"

"That's not his name," Eugene replied. "If you don't find a different doctor, we're leaving."

"You can't leave," she begged. "Your wife is about to give birth!"

Sauer smirked, sizing Eugene up. "What are you going to do? Where would you take her?"

Eugene didn't hesitate, nor did he back down. "I'll deliver the baby myself if I have to."

"Don't be stupid, boy," Sauer taunted. "You'd end up killing her."  
"What, like you almost did?" Eugene shouted, fists balled up at his sides. "You damn near succeeded, I might add!"

The nurse was backing out of the room, clearly afraid and wondering what was going on. When she fled the room, I had a suspicion that she was calling the police.

"Eugene," I whispered through the pain. "We have to go. Now."

I didn't want the police to get involved and I certainly didn't want them forcing us to use Sauer. The longer we stayed in the hospital, the more likely he'd be the one in charge of our delivery, my life, and our baby's life. There was no way that I was going to allow that to happen.

Eugene stayed in his place. He asked, "Can you manage getting your things on your own?"

I understood why he was asking. He didn't trust Sauer not to intervene. He didn't trust Sauer not to reach out and grab me. Eugene wanted to keep his eyes on the enemy for as long as humanly possible. He was protecting me...protecting our child.

I forced myself to fight through the pain. "Yes. I can do it."

Even though I struggled to stand upright, I managed to gather our things and was by Eugene's side, holding onto his arm.

He glared at Sauer. "Step aside."

"You're making a big mistake," Sauer stated, slowly stepping aside. Eugene put a hand on the small of my back, guiding me towards the door. As I passed through the doorway, I turned back to see Eugene still watching Sauer as he joined me in the hallway.

Eugene side glanced at me. He motioned for me to head to the car. My heart was racing as I exited the hospital. I reached the car and leaned against the hood as the pain in my body increased.

Eugene was beside me instantly, helping me into the backseat of the car. He turned, eyeing the hospital staff who were standing in the entrance to the building, watching us leave. Sauer was front and center, arms crossed, and clearly amused.

Eugene climbed into the driver seat and sped away from the place. I asked, "Where are you going?"

He replied, "The next hospital is about thirty miles away." He glanced at me through the rearview mirror. "Do you think you can hold on that long?"

I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting the urge to scream with the amount of pain that I was going through. I nodded, trying to keep my strength up. I was willing myself to make it just a little longer.

I could feel the car moving quickly down the roads. Outside the outlines of trees zipping passed, there wasn't a single thing that I could focus on.

After a few minutes of driving in the pitch black, I couldn't hold back my gasps of pain. There was something almost familiar to this pain, yet so completely different than what I had experienced in Foy. Memories of the torture were trying to push forward but I was fighting them back. I refused to be reminded of those days when this was supposed to be an exciting moment for us. This was supposed to be a joyous occasion, not one of fear.

I let loose a shriek. Eugene glanced over his shoulder to look at me. I felt the tears rolling down my cheeks. It was becoming too much to handle.

I felt the car slowing down and suddenly come to a complete stop. I forced my eyes open to see Eugene getting out of the car and opening the back door. He took a look at me, held my hand. He sighed, saying, "We're not going to make it to the hospital. Not before the baby comes."

I shook my head. "I can't do this."

"I'm here," he cooed. "We will do this together."

I sobbed. "I'm scared, Eugene."

He nodded. "I know," he admitted. "I am, too." He reached forward and caressed my cheek, wiping the tears away. "Do you trust me?"

I swallowed, nodding. "Of course, I do."

"Then trust me now," he said softly. "We don't have a choice."

"I'm sorry," I confessed.

He narrowed his dark eyes at me. "Sorry for what?"

"I didn't know that he was there!" I cried. "I didn't know that he was here..."

"I know you didn't," he stated. "That's not your fault. We will deal with him later, but right now, Jane..." he started to roll his sleeves up his arms. "We need to deliver this baby. Are you ready?"

I shook my head, but I knew that I didn't have a choice. This baby was coming, and there was little that I could do about it. Eugene asked me to trust him, and I did...but now, I was forced to prove just how much I trusted him as we sat parked in the pitch black of the earliest morning hours on the side of a road.

I closed my eyes, trying to focus on the cicadas chirping.

A wave of pain washed over me. I heard Eugene ordering me to push. I listened to his command.

"Her vision is better than most of the men's, sir," Roe stated as he gave Sobel his findings.

Another wave of pain, another scream from my lips as I pushed.

I took a picture of Roe as we sat at his secret place. He leaned forward and kissed my lips.

More pain, more pushing.

I felt hands shaking me awake. I opened my eyes to see Roe smiling down at me as I rested my head on his shoulder. "Good morning. We're moving out," he said to me. I raised my head from his shoulder, smiling back at him. I felt his hand give mine a gentle squeeze as he helped me to my feet.

Another push, another scream.

"I know that you don't remember much about before," Roe stated sadly as he looked at his boots. "But I want to help you remember as much as you can. I know it's going to take time, but I want to try."

"What happens if I can't remember?" I asked.

"That's okay too," he admitted. "I just want to be with you, no matter what."

I could no longer hear the cicadas; just my screams of agony.

"I thought I had lost you!" Roe admitted as he embraced me tightly. "How'd you get here?"

"I had some help," I replied. "But that doesn't matter any more. What matters is that I finally found you!"

I was seeing stars from squeezing my eyes so tightly. My fingers dug into the seats of the car.

"There's something I've been meaning to ask you," Roe started. I looked at him as I began packing my things for our long trip back to England. He continued, "Now that the war's over, I was wondering if you'd like to get married."

"Some day, maybe. Sure," I admitted, clearly focused on packing.

He grabbed my hands, stopping me from my task. He locked eyes with me. Quietly, he asked, "Would you marry me?"

My breath hitched. "You...are you asking me to do it now?"

"Why not?" he laughed. "There's a place in England that we could get married. We would have our friends there before we were all shipped back home."

I heard the muffled orders from Eugene as he was trying to encourage me to keep pushing, but I was starting to fade. My body was getting tired.

Standing before Roe in the small chapel outside the base, seeing him in his dress uniform was something that I never thought I'd see. I smiled wide at him, wearing a kind woman's dress that she had worn on her wedding day, several years ago. The look in his eye when he saw me was something to never forget.

I slumped against the cushion. My body was drained. It wasn't long before I heard the unforgettable or unmistakable sound of a baby crying. I forced myself up to my elbows to see Eugene holding the small child in his arms. His smile was just as big as it was on our wedding day.

He looked over at me. "It's a boy," he said.

I smiled back, mustering all the energy that I could to sit up and readjust in the backseat. When I managed to sit up, Eugene handed me our son. I looked down at the little boy's face. He was perfect. My heart exploded with love.

Eugene said, "I'm going to get us to the hospital."

I nodded as he closed us in the backseat just before he climbed into the front seat to start the car. I couldn't tear my eyes away from the small face that slept soundly in my arms.

I studied his face, memorizing it over and over again. By the time we arrived to the hospital in the town over, I had realized what his name was.

Eugene opened the door and helped me out of the car. I whispered to him as we all slowly walked into the hospital, "His name is Eugene Jr."

Eugene looked over at me. It took him a moment to register what I had said, but the second he understood, a smile plastered over his face. He asked, "Are you sure?"

I nodded. "He looks just like you. And he'll grow up knowing what an amazing hero you are. He'll hold his name - your name - proud."

As we approached the doors, some hospital employees rushed out to help us.


	50. Diary Of Jane

The next few months went by in a blur. I don't even remember much, but I remember needing sleep and feeling like there was no hope to gain any. It wasn't much longer that Betty would come by to help so that Eugene and I could sleep and take care of our basic needs. It was much needed and so incredibly appreciated.

One day, Betty and Susan came over to visit. Susan, surprisingly, had been enjoying Eugene Jr.. I could see it in her eyes that she was feeling the pangs of losing her own child so many years ago. I wondered if she would attempt trying again for a family.

I asked, "Would you guys mind watching him for a while?"

"You need to go somewhere?" Betty asked.

I nodded. "I don't know how long I will be, but there's something that I need to take care of."

The two exchanged looks, but nodded. I asked, "Betty, do you mind if I borrow your car?" She raised an eyebrow at me, but said nothing. She dug through her purse and handed me her keys. "I'll fill it up before I get back."

"You don't have to do that, honey," she stated.

"And you don't have to let me borrow your car," I countered. "But, here we are."

We smiled at each other before I left.

I drove to the hospital that I was originally set up to give birth to Eugene Jr.. I parked the car in the lot and stared at the entrance door. My heart was pounding in my ears.

I muttered, "What are you doing here?"

Such a good question, the voice mocked.

I sighed heavily as I climbed out of the car and forced myself towards the door. I entered and asked the nurse at the front, "Excuse me, I'm looking for Dr. Wilson?"

She barely glanced up from her paperwork. She motioned over her shoulder. "He should be down that way."

I didn't bother thanking her and walked down the corridor. As I walked, I passed by a few officers. They smiled and tipped their hats at me as I walked by. I smiled back, hoping that they'd still be there should something happen.

I rounded the corner and looked around nervously. I didn't see him anywhere. Another nurse approached me. "Can I help you, Miss?"

I turned my attention to her. "I'm looking for Dr. Wilson."

The nurse looked over at the police officers and waved them over. I grew rigid. When the officers stopped beside her, she mentioned that I was looking for Dr. Wilson. They turned to look at me. It was apparent that they were trying to think of the best way to break whatever news they had to me.

"Dr. Wilson was arrested a few months ago," the officer stated. "Are you a patient of his?"

"Arrested?" I asked, confused "What for?"

"Well, it turns out that Wilson isn't his real name," the officer said. "It's -"

"Sauer," I interjected.

The man looked stunned that I knew. "How did you-"

I cut him off again. "I met him in the war."

He looked me over. "Are you an accomplice of his?"

I shook my head. "No, God, no," I scoffed. I inhaled deeply before admitting, "I was his prisoner in the war. Tortured..." my voice trailed off.

The officer raised an eyebrow at me. "Tortured?"

I nodded. "Yeah," I said, shifting in my place. "I wanted to confront him."

"Do you have any proof?" he asked. When I raised my shirt up to show him just a fraction of the scars that I had, I could see it in his eyes the horror he was thinking. He nodded, allowing me to lower my shirt again. He said, "The MPs took him to the base. I'm not sure what they're going to do with him now, but I can escort you to the base...explain the situation to them... see what they can do for you."

I smiled at him. "That would be appreciated, thank you."

We left the hospital and headed out towards the military base, a few hours away. When we arrived, I stayed in Betty's car as the officer spoke to the guards outside the base. When they were finished speaking, the officer came to speak to me. "They've agreed to let you meet with him. I'll see you around."

I thanked him and watched him leave as I was escorted by the MP into the base. We stopped outside of a building and he approached the car, escorting me inside.

He ran down the rules and regulations for meeting with the prisoner and I had to leave my things behind. They didn't want anything to be used against me should he try to attack me. I was beginning to question if what I was doing was the right thing.

Before the prisoner was brought inside, a familiar face appeared in the hallway. It was the same grumpy officer that was in Sink's office all those years ago. He recognized me and approached me. "What are you doing here?"

I swallowed. "I heard about the prisoner."

"Oh," he said, recalling the incident at the hospital. "You were the patient that left."  
I nodded. "I thought that I would come by and face my demons head on."

He laughed, clearly approving my bravery. "I wouldn't normally allow this, but you've more than earned the right to confront him." He shook my hand and added, "I wish you luck. Take care of yourself."

"You too, Sir," I stated as he released my hand.

The MP asked me as the officer walked away, "Are you ready?" I nodded and I was motioned into the holding room.

I sat in silence for a few minutes, feeling my nerves getting the better of me. I was beginning to wonder if I should just forget the whole thing and leave, but the moment I started to consider standing up, the door opened and a couple of MPs had escorted Sauer into the room.

Sauer was in prisoner garb and chains. They sat him in the chair opposite me at the table. They stood on either side of him, making sure that he wouldn't try to do anything to me.

Sauer smirked when he saw me. There was a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. He placed his chained hands on the table in front of him and waited for me to say something. When I didn't speak immediately, he asked, "Miss me?"

Waves of memories and emotions crashed down on me. My knee jerk reaction wanted to reach out and punch him. Another part of me wanted to hide and cry in the corner of the room. Instead, I sat there, staring at him.

He laughed. "You must really enjoy misery, Jane."

"Why do you say that?" I finally asked.

"Why else would you be here? Why seek me out, confront me, when you know that it will only make you worse in the end?" he questioned. His voice was laced with sarcasm, mockery, and enjoyment. He knew what kind of hold he had over me, the kind of hold he's had since I was rescued. He must have known how much I was struggling since.

I blinked at him. "How's Marta?"

The smirk disappeared from his face. His voice growled at me, "You don't get to say her name."

"I wonder if she realized too late that I wasn't the enemy after all," I pointed out. Just before Sauer was about to retort, I asked, "What did she do? Figure it out?"

"Shut up about her," he spat at me through gritted teeth. When one of the MPs placed his hand on Sauer's shoulder to keep him in his place, I shook my head, letting the MP know that I was okay, that Sauer wasn't going to do anything. Once I did that, the MP removed his hand from his shoulder. Sauer seemed almost surprised.

I asked, "What did you do to her? What happened?"

He shook his head. "What does it matter? She's dead now."

I shrugged. "It doesn't. More of a curiosity."

"Why are you here?" he asked. "What could you possibly want from me?"

I blinked at him. "I don't need anything from you."

"I doubt that," he laughed. "If you didn't, you wouldn't be here. Besides, I've seen it on your face. I'm inside your head, Jane. Always have been. You'll never be rid of me."

"See," I started. "That's where you're wrong."

He cocked his head to the side. "You seem sure of that."

I nodded. "I am," I replied. "See, the thing is, Sauer... I don't need anything from you. I'm here to tell you that..." I took in a deep breath, bracing myself for what I was about to do.

He laughed, thinking that I was unable to finish my sentence. "You're still weak, Jane. You'll always be a stupid, weak, little girl, afraid of me and those around you. Admit it."

"I forgive you, Sauer," I stated finally. I said it with such confidence, I almost felt like someone else said it.

The look on his face was one that I'd never forget. He blinked at me, confused, and taken aback. "What did you just say to me?"

I could hear the disgust in his voice laced with surprise. I studied his face before I repeated myself with even more confidence, "I forgive you." When the shock stayed on his face, I added, "I forgive you for what you did to me - the torture, the broken bones, the scars that I'll carry with me for the rest of my life, for what you did to Marta - I forgive you."

"I don't want your forgiveness!" he spat at me.

I gave him a half smile out of sympathy. "I wasn't asking for your approval or permission. I don't need to have those to be able to sit here before you and tell you that I forgive you. There's nothing more powerful than forgiving those who don't deserve it."

He looked furious with me. It suddenly occurred to me that if I was strong enough to forgive him for all the horrible things he had done to me, then he must have realized that I wasn't as stupid or weak as he originally believed me to be. It takes great strength to be able to forgive while it is usually easier to be angry and seek revenge.

I added, "I hope that wherever you go, no matter what happens to you moving forward in life, you know that I don't hold anything against you."

He bolted to his feet, ready to reach for me, but the MPs grabbed him, holding him back. He started screaming at me, things that I couldn't quite make out. Instead of flinching at his screaming and threats he was making, I slowly stood up, nodded my thanks to the MPs for allowing me this time with Sauer, turned and exited the room.

Outside the room, I followed my escort back out to Betty's car. Once I was in the safety of the car, I released the breath that I was holding. In this moment, I felt lighter. A huge weight had been lifted off of me and I felt the overwhelming change within me.

For the first time since losing my memory, I felt genuinely happy. I felt safe. I felt like the old me.

I pulled away from the base, leaving everything about my old life behind me and started towards my home and my future.

I walked into the house. Betty and Eugene were there. Susan had left already for the night. When they heard the door open, they had approached me. I could see the anger in Eugene's eyes. I handed Betty her keys back and she gave me a warning glance before showing herself out.

Eugene ran his hands through his hair, showing his frustration. He paced a couple of times before finally asking, "Where were you?"

I replied, "I went to see him." I knew that I didn't have to specify who. It was apparent by the way he was acting that he knew where I was. Before he could interject how angry he was, I said, "I needed to see him."

"Why?" he questioned, still not completely calm.

I motioned for him to sit down. His pacing was making me nervous. Once he was sitting down, I sat next to him. "I had to tell him that I forgive him."

"You...what now?" Eugene asked, stunned.

I nodded. "I told him that I forgive him for everything."

"How'd he react to that?" he asked.

I smiled. "About as well as you...confused, then the anger came out." I told him all about what was said, how Sauer reacted, and how the MPs were there to run interference. I explained the feeling that I had when I was in the car, that weight being lifted. "I haven't heard the voice either. I don't think that voice is coming back."

Eugene studied my face for a moment before embracing me, kissing my cheek, and sighing a sigh of relief. "Next time, don't ever go without me."

"There won't ever be a next time," I stated. "What's done is done. That part of my life is over. It's time to move forward with our lives...with our family."

We pulled away from each other. He placed his calloused hands on my cheeks. "I love you, Jane. I'm so happy that you're with me."

"And I love you, Eugene," I replied. "And I'm so lucky that you're with me."

As time continued onwards, our family had grown. We had three more children, all girls. We expanded our house together and lived happily together for the rest of our lives.

Since confronting Sauer, the voice inside my head was completely dead. I never heard from it again since the day of the hospital surprise. All of my nightmares had ceased and the phantom pains that I was having in my abdomen and fingers were also gone. Confronting Sauer was just the thing I needed to release my demons for good.

The military had turned over custody of Sauer to the people of Belgium where he awaited a trial for his part in the war and all the war crimes he committed. Faye was part of the group who testified against him. She used me as a prime example of many against him. He was found guilty of many crimes, genocide, treason, murder - to name a few. He was executed the following year after his sentence.

Faye had reached out to me one last time, to update me on the trial and execution that followed. She wished me well, and included at the bottom of her letter the address where Anna Chiwy was living. After that, Faye considered her debt to me fulfilled.

I reached out to Anna and we spoke on the phone twice weekly. We caught up from when we separated ways in Bastogne to the present. We both reminisced about Renee. After catching up with each other, Anna had been asking me questions about my past, which I would ask her, just like before, what she was doing, and she would simply tell me that she was asking me about cookies. It was an inside joke for us, that even after all of this time, she was still trying to help me remember my past. - It worked.

So, as I write on the last few pages of my leather-bound journal, just know that this is the story of a girl that was. This is the story of how I destroyed her and became the person she was meant to be all along.

This is it. The last few lines I'll ever write. Take care of yourself, my friend.

-Jane Roe


End file.
